


Beskar & Kyber

by toffeeandcream



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: After S2E16, Daddy Issues, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Din doesn’t know how to handle being touched, Din is a softie, Din kicks stormtrooper ass, Din likes a girl that can fight, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Force sensitive characters, Gen, Multi, Mutual Pining, Possessive Din Djarin, Pretty girls make Din nervous, RIP Razor Crest, References to Canon, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved, Traditional gender roles and how to break them, idiots to lovers, legal age gap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 70,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28210071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toffeeandcream/pseuds/toffeeandcream
Summary: Din misses the kid. A lot. Now that Grogu is gone, he’s lost any and all sense of direction and is back to his old bounty-hunting ways. He’s good at bounty-hunting. What he’s not good at is people. Which is why the least thing he’d expect from a routine high-profile hunt is coming back empty-handed, barely alive, and with a force-sensitive Kanian girl in tow.She’s running away from an uncertain future. He’s running away from the throne. But it turns out your destiny is a lot harder to avoid than they’d expect.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 114





	1. The Bounty Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din gets back into old habits while mourning the departure of The Child. Then, he receives a not-so-friendly welcome at the site of his next quarry.

It’s been a month since the kid left, and three weeks since Din bought himself a new ship and got the hell away from it all. 

The moments following Grogu’s dramatic departure were quiet. Bo-Katan and Koska left without so much of a word. Last Din heard, they were en route to Mandalore, or at least what was left of it. No word on what she planned to do when they got there or what she planned on doing without the dark saber—because Din was still holding it when she left, the closest thing to the fight to the death Moff Gideon predicted a glare as she shouldered her way out of the bridge. Not that Din knows what to do with it. Not that he really wanted it at all. 

The others let Din sit in silence for some time, knees buckled, before they gently urged him back up. Even with all of the occupants slain or ejected, staying in that imperial starship for so long was risky enough. Cara looped her arm around him, the other clutching a cuffed and barely conscious Moff Gideon by the scruff of his neck, and walked quietly back to Boba Fett’s ship. There, no one objected when he descended the stairs and rode out the trip in a dark corner of the cargo bay. 

Mandalorians don’t show emotion the way others do, and maybe that was the issue. Din spent decades living his life with only marginal differences in emotion. His priorities were with the Tribe, and then, when time came for him to become a bounty hunter, the Guild. He didn’t need to worry about feeling anything at all except hunger and pain, which he dealt with accordingly. Sure, he was human, but his line of work meant that he didn’t get attached to anything. As long as he wasn’t attached to anything, the occasional odd feeling would be bearable.

He let himself get attached to the kid. At first, he didn’t particularly mean to. The kid was valuable and he seized on that. But compassion got the best of him. He cared about him. He protected him. He learned to live beyond just surviving. Grogu gave him a purpose, a break from the mundanity of bounty hunting. The Tribe was never really a family. They protected one another, yes, but they were in constant competition, even when he was barely a foundling. It was a commune, not a family. Grogu was different. He was almost like the family Din never had—or like the one that got snatched away from him so long ago. 

And now that the kid is gone too, he has nothing. No family. No purpose. No ship. Just a handful of friends and an ancient relic he doesn’t want. Even if he knew where Grogu was going, he couldn’t exactly visit. The Jedi were insistent that his affection for the child would weaken his training. He probably won’t ever even see him again. 

The group spends a few days traveling through space before stopping in Navarro. There, Cara urges Din to stay for a few days, suggesting she stay with him to help put Moff Gideon up to trial, but Din declines. They say their goodbyes and Din joins Boba and Fennec on their ride to nowhere. 

On the fifth day of travel, they land on a planet towards the outer edge of the Rim. The planet’s home to a port city, dusty and riddled with crime, and Boba gets up to business as usual. While they’re out negotiating, Din heads over to the port and buys himself a new ship. It’s nothing particularly special, but it flies, and it’s worlds newer than the Razor Crest. Din hands over the money and leaves right after fueling up. He doesn’t have to tell Boba or Fennec. They knew he was bound to leave soon anyway. 

The thing with Mandalorians is that they’re creatures of habit. It’s indoctrinated into them: what they should do, who they should be. The whole world expects Mandalorians to be little more than dangerous, cultist bounty hunters. And now that the kid isn’t around to keep him grounded, there’s only one thing that Din can cling to. The only thing he knows. 

Din gets back in contact with the Guild. He gets his first bounty the same day. It’s nothing much: just a couple thousand credits, enough to keep him comfortable until he signs up for the next one. He catches the guy—a Cerean wanted for failure to pay off his landspeeder—outside a brothel on Mossu. Then two more bounties on the same planet.

...Then a few more the next planet over. 

Before he knows it, he’s throwing himself into his work and making way more money than he had before he even met the kid. He spends what he can on fuel, supplies, and repairs—because, as it turns out, his new ship is more of a junker than he planned for—and saves the rest. He lives off a few hours of sleep a day and cold showers back on his ship. Never stopping long enough to really rest. Turns out, it’s a lot easier to forget you lost someone when you’re working yourself so hard you can barely focus on anything else. 

There are only so many bounties out on the far reaches of the Rim, though, which means inching back towards the Mid Rim. These are where the big bounties are; the ones from the rich people with a lot to lose. He stops in Arkanis, a rainy planet towards the center of the Outer Rim. He meets his client at a bar in the center of the city. The client, a politician, offers him a pretty heavy bounty in exchange for bringing a quarry back alive from Kan, the capital city of Jiloh. A man named Kemp Alrick, wanted dead or alive. 

Din hasn’t been to Jiloh in years; not since the early days of the New Republic. It’s a small planet on the outer edge of the Mid Rim with a bustling tourism industry and an ancient culture. Back in the old days, it was one of the Mid Rim planets within flying distance of the imperial checkpoints. The checkpoints were a joke, of course, and Din had no issue stopping in and out of Jiloh any time he needed to find a quarry or refuel. Which was fairly often. In fact, even during the days of the old Empire, Jiloh was one of the wealthiest planets in the section based on their capital city alone. It probably helped that Kan, its largest port city, was home to a surprising amount of loyalists. The Empire probably knew that if they tightened their grip on Jiloh, increased security so fewer tourists could travel through their airspace, they’d just end up taking money out of their own pockets. 

Din’s skeptical at first. Usually, a bounty that high means some kind of risk, and Kan has never been _that_ risky—even during the days of imperial occupation. He asks the politician for more information, but he’s tight-lipped. Says that Alrick wronged people and needs to be brought to justice. He tells Din that if he can bring him back quietly, he’ll be rewarded even more handsomely. 

And Din isn’t exactly in the position to question it. This bounty would keep him afloat for a lot longer than the ones he’d been getting before, in the Outer Rim. It could help him pay for repairs on the new ship. Maybe help him buy a new mattress pad for the bunk, too. One that’s thicker than an inch and a half. 

His quarry’s probably just some rich guy. One who wronged the politician on a personal level and now needs to be brought to justice, or whatever the politician thinks. These people always fight amongst their own. It’s nothing new. 

Din accepts a down payment of several thousand credits before embarking on the journey to Jiloh. It’s a bit of a bumpy ride, and he has to pass through a handful of asteroid fields in order to avoid any potential New Republic checkpoints along the way, but he gets there. 

From above, Jiloh looks as beautiful as ever: rolling, post-volcanic hills, green valleys, white cliffs giving way to waves below. He passes over miles of greenery before approaching the port city of Kan. He’s been here before, both on business and just passing through. Kan’s always been a fairly convenient stop on the way into the Mid Rim: it’s beautiful, busy, and free of any New Republic officers that might question the presence of a Mandalorian. In fact, surprisingly, no one ever really questioned his presence there at all. There were always too many people around for anyone to really care.

This time, however, seems a little different. Din vaguely remembers there being a particular day of rest observed in Jilohvian culture, but he can’t for the life of himself remember what day it is. It must be today, though, because the landing pad at the edge of town seems to be tarped over, and the buildings nearby once occupied by engineers and mechanics look empty. He settles for instead landing his ship at the bottom of the hill parallel to the town. He gathers his things, opens the cargo door, and steps outside. 

It’s a pretty day, and the wind whistles as he walks through the valley. Din’s grateful that he’s here during the dry season—the rainy season here is long, and feeling water seep into his clothes and under his armor isn’t exactly the best feeling. Birds sing overhead and bugs chirp from their hiding places in the tall grass. The kid would love it here. His belly would be full of bugs in minutes. Except he’s not here, Din has to remind himself, shaking his head. He’s working. This is work. 

Something odd crunches underfoot. Din glances down and lifts his boot. A piece of metal has somehow gotten wedged in between the grooves. He yanks it out, mildly irritated, only to realize there’s more. He kneels low to the ground and inspects the soil beneath him. Splinters of metal and tiny pieces of what looks like crumbled stone are embedded in the soil. When he glances up, he realizes the same little pieces of shrapnel are littering the path beyond. Not just the path beyond; as he turns, he starts to realize that the rocks dotting the landscape around him aren’t actually rocks. 

They’re rubble. 

He slows his pace and ascends the hill with his hand on his holster. The bag shifts against him and he pauses in spite of himself. The Child is gone. It’s just a force of habit. 

The last few times he visited Kan, they’d been busier than they’d ever been. With the fall of the Galactic Empire came an end to any occupation in the sector. Once barriers to casual transportation were eradicated, Kan was cemented as one of the most popular port towns in the sector, not just because of its prime location but because of its architecture: big, beautiful limestone buildings, grand streets, all thousands of years old. A beautiful place with beautiful people finally free of outside control. It made sense that they’d have to grow, and maybe that’s what this is. Rubble from construction. Except that was years ago, and in a place like Kan, they wouldn’t just _construct_ things, much less leave the remnants to spoil the countryside’s natural beauty. Modern construction would be an eyesore. 

The apex of the hill approaches and Din slows. Rubble could mean anything. It could mean a civilization falling by natural means. It could mean war. It could mean some kind of occupation. It could mean that when he arrives at the top, he’ll find nothing but bones and ash. 

Something roars in the distance. A TIE fighter. Din ducks for cover behind the nearest boulder, one of the few remaining artifacts from the planet’s prehistoric past. He’d learned about them once, from an old woman in the marketplace who sold him a meal—how the natives used to carve words into the rocks decorating the rolling hills as a way of documenting their lives—but now, he feels all the more grateful for the people of Kan’s past. He stays silent, clutching his blaster and bag to his chest, as the TIE fighter flies overhead. 

TIE fighters don’t just fly alone, unsupervised, in the middle of unoccupied territory. Either something here is piquing the Empire’s interest, or they’ve gained a lot more ground than anticipated. But they’re not looking for him. If they were, they would’ve come in from the east, from behind him and in the direction of his ship . They came from the north. The Empire doesn’t know he’s here. It’s best that he keeps it that way.

Din stays crouched behind the boulder until the roaring of the TIE fighter engine lulls to a distant screech. Only then does he stand, bag still pressed protectively against his chest. The ship disappears over the southern mountains. Gone. 

Letting out a breath of relief, Din takes his last few steps until he reaches the top of the hill. He nearly expects the town to be flattened, for there to be bodies, still-smoldering fires, evidence of the horrors the Empire can invoke on innocents… but there isn’t any. Two buildings are destroyed, the remaining limestone chunks charred. The cobblestone at their feet looks like it survived a similar fate. Troops burning evidence, maybe. But that’s it.

As Din walks through the square, nothing else seems to be harmed. The rest of Kan looks exactly like it used to: a picturesque, cliff-side port town. Yet something is off. There are no ships in the landing bay. In fact, there seems to be no one here at all. The streets that had once been bustling with well-to-do locals and starstruck tourists are bare. Letting out a breath, Din puts his hand back on his holster and cautiously makes his way towards the square. 

It’s definitely not just a day of rest. Something bad happened here. Even the marketplace is empty: the stalls barren and unused. Quietly, he walks through the stalls, ducking down occasionally to spot anyone he might’ve missed. No one. It’s almost like the entire city had just been abandoned—whether by choice or in death, he’s still not sure. But the abandonment is definitely recent. Despite the wreckage at the front of the square, the buildings still look well-kept, the limestone as white as ever. And even the wreckage looks groomed, like it’d been combed over to the best of someone’s ability. 

He spots a familiar building and approaches it. Pushing the door open with his blaster, he enters a large room illuminated by an oversized window in the back. A bar. He’d been given a bounty here before, by a man with a significant amount of money. That money had helped him buy the Razor Crest so many years ago. Except the place looks so different now, in dull lighting and free of any presences. He leans over the bar, blaster in hand, but finds no one hiding underneath the counter. The bottles on the wall are untouched, but don’t look old enough to be dusty. 

He settles down on a barstool to regain his thoughts for a moment. The politician wouldn’t have sent him here if he knew his target was dead, or at least missing. How could the city be completely empty? Did they get evacuated by imperial forces? Are they hiding? 

He reaches into his bag and takes a long swig of his water. _Dank farrik_ , he could use a drink, but he can’t be having one right now. He needs a clear head if he wants to figure out what happened here. Taking a long breath, he stands back up and heads back outside. As he walks down the cobblestone streets, the only sounds he hears are his boots against the stone and the whistling of the wind against the cliffs below. 

At the end of the square sits a large, circular building. The architecture is grand, nearly as grand as that of the marketplace. Maybe a town hall, or at least a building important enough to have some kind of records. Din approaches the front doors and pauses, gloved fingertips tracing the lettering on the stone. During his travels here, he learned a bit of Jilohvian, but never really picked up on their script. Now, he kind of wishes he had. 

He presses his hand flat against the stone and gives the door a nudge. It doesn’t give. He tries again—and then again, with a final shove that pushes the doors wide open. Inside, desks and chairs are scattered about, like someone had left in a hurry. The building is circular, too, with bookcases and circular windows lining the walls. A board sits at the back of the room. A classroom, Din realizes. An empty one. 

Din makes his way towards the first bookshelf. It’s dusty and filled with books, many of them pre-New Republic. He picks one up. A Map of Jiloh and its Surrounding Moons. When he flips the book open, it lands on an illustration of Kan looking exactly like it should: beautiful, white limestone buildings with brown roofs, cobblestone-lined streets, and the hustle and bustle of port town life. At the end of the square sits the schoolhouse. Children in uniforms run along the cliff in the distance. 

Din remembers the children of Kan well. The people here were wealthy, more so than many other places in the galaxy, and thus lived comfortably enough to have as many children as they wanted. In fact, in its prime, Kan had one of the biggest birth rates in the sector. On particularly sunny days, you would see children running around the square, darting through marketplace booths and playing with their family droids. They were annoying, of course—always gawking at his beskar, tugging at his arm, asking if he was a droid or a soldier. The same kind of questions any kid who was too young to have war trauma asked him. Still, they were red-cheeked, happy, and always looked well-fed. It was the kind of childhood Din himself had before it was ripped away from him. It was the kind of childhood he would’ve continued to have for years instead of growing up and fending for himself. The kind of childhood he would’ve loved to give The Child, had he been given the opportunity to.

The sound of something falling behind Din makes him abruptly drop the book and turn around, blaster raised. A wooden toy sits beside the large desk at the back of the room, rocking back and forth. Din points his blaster towards the desk. 

“Stand where I can see you,” he orders. 

The toy continues to roll back and forth until it slows to a stop. Over the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore below, Din can hear ragged breaths coming from behind the desk. So the town isn’t abandoned. Not entirely. 

“I said,” he repeats, “stand up.” 

Another long pause. Suddenly, a little head peeks out from behind the desk and two eyes peer up at him. Din lowers his blaster. It’s a child. A little one, with scruffy light hair and big eyes. Just as quickly as the child appears, it’s yanked back down towards the ground. 

“I told you to stay down,” a voice hisses. 

Din sighs. “I can hear you.” 

There’s a shuffling of bodies and a hush of little voices. Then, one stands up. A young woman dressed in garbs that are distinctly Kan stares back at him. Probably not older than twenty-five and scared. She swallows visibly at the sight of him, but stands commandingly on the other side of the desk. Her eyes narrow. 

“Leave,” she says. Her voice is thin but authoritative. “There’s nothing for you here.” 

Din lowers his weapon entirely. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know there was anyone here.” The town looked maintained enough, but Din would’ve never expected the survivors of whatever _that_ was to be a handful of children and a twenty-something-year-old. 

“Your squadron already left and took what they needed,” the young woman snaps. “Did you not hear me? There’s nothing for you here.” 

The young woman abruptly pulls out a blaster—an Imperial one, one that must’ve somehow been confiscated—and points it in his direction. Din quickly raises his in response. Breathing out shakily, she says, “I’ve seen your shiny new uniforms. I know why you’re here. Leave before you cause more trouble than it’s worth.” 

As if in reply, eight little heads pop up from over the desk, all no older than maybe ten. They blink at Din with wide, expectant eyes. The young woman shoos them back down in a panic. 

“I told you not to show him your face,” she pleads. “Stay down. Please.” 

She whips her head back around. Her hand shakes as she holds the blaster out towards Din, saying, “You people aren’t going to fool me again. Last time I wasn’t prepared and I couldn’t stop you. But I am prepared, and I suggest you leave before I shoot.” Her mouth twitches. “I know where to hit you.” 

The cogs start turning in Din’s head. The worst-case scenario he’d thought up earlier was true. Jiloh has been occupied. “I’m not a trooper,” Din says, quickly. 

“And I’m not a killer,” she says, “but I’m not letting you get to my kids.” Her hand trembles as her finger inches towards the trigger. He knows she won’t be able to shoot him. She’s too tense. Too rigid. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Any misfire and a beam could ricochet off the walls and into one of the children sitting right beside her. Something tightens in Din’s chest and he takes a step backwards. 

“Listen,” Din urges, “I can tell you’re not. Please, put the blaster down. You could hurt one of the kids.” 

His insistence is met with silence. He can tell that she processes it, slides her hands further back and away from the trigger, but she’s unwavering. Quieter now, she repeats, “Leave.” 

Din glances back at the desk, where the top of the children’s heads are still visible. Slowly, he says, “Alright. Just please—” 

“Leave.” The girl’s voice is tight now, eyes welling up with tears. Then, quieter, she says, “Don’t make me do this.” 

Din takes another step back. She’s not listening to reason and Din doesn’t blame her, whatever the reason may be, but she can accidentally do a lot more damage than she realizes. He needs to get out. “Just put the blaster down. I’ll leave, I’m not going to hurt—” 

Din feels himself get launched backwards and he goes tumbling, painfully, into the back wall with no time to defend himself. Then—darkness.


	2. The Welcome Wagon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din tries to find out what happened to him—and where his target is.

Din doesn’t know how long he was out for. But when he comes to, he’s caught underneath an avalanche of books and twisted wood. Dazed, he glances down, but his eyes can barely stay open. When he’s able to force his eyes open again, the girl is standing above him. He thinks, for a moment, that she really did manage to shoot him somehow. That he’s losing consciousness from the wound. But when he looks down at his body, he's unharmed. “Is the bad man dead?” a little voice asks. 

The girl breathes out shakily. “I don’t know.”

Din lets out a loud groan in response as he pushes the remains of the bookshelf off himself. Weakly, he tosses his bag to the side and throws the blaster along with it. Voice strained even through the modulator, he asks the girl, “What did you do to me?” 

The girl doesn’t reply or drop her own blaster. Instead, she eyes him for a second before cautiously going to pick his bag up from the floor. There’s nothing particularly interesting in there, and he knows that—just a few credits, a canteen, and the ball to one of the Razor Crest’s levers. The same things he’d been carrying around everywhere since The Child went away; a habit that he wasn’t quite ready to break yet. Nothing nefarious and absolutely nothing to link him to the Empire. 

The girl looks down at him curiously. “Odd things to be carrying around.” 

Din breathes out sharply in reply as he tries to sit himself up. “Yeah. Force of habit.” 

Her face falls. He’s clearly not who she thought he was. “Stars—I’m sorry,” she says, dropping both items and offering him a hand. She strains under his weight: the beskar is heavy and she's small, a good head shorter than Din. She gets him on his feet with a loud groan on his part. “I didn’t know. Your suit looks so much like theirs… I didn’t want it happening again.” 

More had happened since the last time Din had been here than he had previously thought. As the girl bends down to retrieve his bag, he replies, “I understand.” He takes his bag from her outstretched hand and winces as he puts it back over his shoulder. The pain feels familiar, but he can’t place it. Closing his eyes, he asks again, “What did you do to me?” 

Something flashes across the girl’s face. “I shot you,” she replies. The faltering in her voice is faint. Din's spent a log time studying the minutiae of vocal inflection through modulators, and he can _almost always_ tell when someone's lying. But he can't be sure now. 

Din gestures towards the blaster on the ground behind her. It looks like every other trooper's blaster he's ever seen. "With that?" he asks. "I've been shot before. I don't know a blaster that strong." 

“Well this one is," she states matter-of-factly. 

"Is it?" Din asks. He steps forward so they're standing face-to-face, shoulders squared in her direction and towering over her. 

The girl swallows but doesn’t break eye contact. "It is." 

Din eyes her through the helmet. He could press if he really wanted to. She’s not overwhelmingly dainty like many of the other Kanian women he’s met before, but she's definitely untrained, and isn’t close to her blaster. She might've survived the invasion—or whatever it was that destroyed the entrance to the town and left the place empty—but she would definitely cave if he confronted her. 

“Jovi,” calls a tiny voice from the back of the room. “I want to go home.” 

The young woman breaks eye contact to glance back at the children. A little girl with fuzzy blonde hair is making her way towards them with a pout. The young woman’s gaze softens. “I know, sweetie,” she says, grabbing her and taking her into her arms. She looks back at Din and swallows, shaking her head.

He hesitates. So there are other people—homes. So many questions are swirling in his head—and so is a headache, which is steadily creeping up and settling in the deepest parts of his brain. But they’ll have to wait. For now, he needs to focus on the task at hand. He needs to find Alrick. 

“Can you take me to the others?” he asks.

Jovi nods, bouncing the little girl in her arms. “Yes. They should be coming out of their houses soon. The Imperial men left right before you arrived. I’ll take you to them.” 

The children start to make their way out from behind the desk. They’re a far cry from the children that used to poke and prod at him during his prior visits, but their gazes are the same: wide, curious. Now that they know he’s not a threat, they’ve retained some of their characteristic inquisitiveness. Din watches as she rounds them all up, all eight of them, and begins to lead them out of the schoolhouse. Something inside him stirs, but he makes an effort to still it. This isn’t what he signed up for. He’s here for a job. Not for a rescue mission. He shifts his bag on his shoulder so it stops digging into the crevices the beskar can’t protect and walks out behind them. 

The cloudy morning has given way to a sunny afternoon. Outside, the town is slowly buzzing back to life, with sounds in the distance indicating they aren’t the only people around. Din follows Jovi and the children down the hillside, towards a cluster of white buildings at the top of the valley. The homesteads. He’d been over there once, collecting a bounty from a rich Kanian who put a significant amount of money on an ex-associate’s head. Something about the Rodian sleeping with his wife or shorting him on a business deal—nothing he hadn’t heard before. The Kanian rewarded him handsomely and invited him inside for tea, Rodian head in hand. He declined. 

The residential district still looks the same, or at least from what he can see from the other side of the valley. Same tall white houses with extravagantly designed roofs and gardens. He wonders how much life has changed since the last time he visited. How much of Kanian culture has caved in the face of necessity. 

That’s another thing: how empty the town is, even now. Every time that Din visits Kan, even during their wet season, the landing pad is full of ships, and their marketplace is buzzing with activity. Tourists love this place. Yet right now, if Din didn’t know any better, he’d swear that he was on a planet far away from any travel routes, out in some tiny corner of the Outer Rim.

“Where are the tourists?” Din asks. 

Jovi materializes alongside him. Sighing, she says, “Scared off, probably. We don’t really know. They just stopped coming over the past several months. Every now and then, people trickle through.” She lifts her hand towards him. “Like you, I suppose. But it’s become the exception rather than the norm. My father thinks they probably found out and stay away for their own sake. Which is why when I heard your ship overhead, I thought it was just another transporter.” 

Odd, given Kan’s once-pristine status as an ideal stop on the way in and out of the Outer Rim—and especially odd given that there seems to be so much commotion, yet Din hasn’t heard a single thing about it. Given, he was a little distracted these past few months, which gave him plenty of time to miss out on galaxy affairs. But his client should’ve told him. His client should’ve known. 

“We were lucky,” Jovi says. “The troops could’ve displaced us from our homes if they really wanted to. But they left them untouched.” Given that many of Kan’s current residents were likely former Empire loyalists, Din isn’t sure how true that statement is—if they’d really take their homes. But with the lengths the new imperials seem to be taking, maybe the game has changed. 

“They came from off-planet, at first,” she continues. “We were free of imperial occupation for a few years. Then they started shipping their troops down here. There’s an old lommite mine over by the mountain range. Those mountains are rich with it. They shipped their men in, took over the mine, and made themselves a base.” She points ahead of them, over the mountain and towards the grey-tinted peaks in the distance. Her shoulders sag. “Haven’t left since.”

“Do they come into town often?” Din asks.

Jovi looks away. “If you’re worried about them coming in while you’re here, don’t. Unless you plan on staying for two weeks.” She shifts the little girl against her side. “They come in every two weeks. They usually didn’t bug us too much but… lately it’s been an exception.” 

Din turns his head in response, but Jovi just side-eyes him and shakes her head. “I don’t want to go into specifics. Not in front of the kids. But… we’ve lost people. Men and boys, mainly. The girls they just like to play with.” 

Din swallows hard. He’s not particularly surprised. Being a bounty hunter means hearing a lot of men talk about a lot of subjects he’d rather not know. To these kinds of men, Kan women are a luxury, something to be sought after. And it’s not like they’re particularly _wrong_ for that by itself—Din might not be the _seeking after_ type, but he has eyes, and Kanian women are beautiful. Slender, feminine, clothed in dresses that emphasize their beauty without sacrificing modesty. The issue is the culture. 

Kanian culture teaches women to stay virginal and subservient. And men eat that up: the idea of corrupting a woman who’s never been touched before. Din’s always hated that—the thirst for taking something untouched and ruining it. It’s sexual colonialism. It’s a small-scale version of toppling cities, of pretending to discover a planet that was already colonized. An exercise in power. 

He’s seen what imperial men like to do with the women of towns they’ve captured. Weeks, sometimes months without sexual contact makes them deprived. Power-hungry. And stationed in a place like Kan… Din doesn’t need to have a particularly strong imagination to know what that could mean. 

“I see,” he says. Not that he really gets it. He’s spent decades without a woman seeing what’s underneath his armor and he’s doing just fine. 

Jovi places the little girl back on the ground gently. The girl runs back on little legs to the rest of the children, who are a few paces ahead going down the hill. 

“They’re depraved,” the young woman says without turning her head. Din turns to look at her and her jaw is clenched. Quieter, she mumbles, “Kriffling bastards.” 

“How long has this been going on?” Din asks.

“A year,” Jovi replies. “And things have only gotten worse.” 

They reach the bottom of the hill, where a stream cuts through the meadow grass. The children lead them over a short wooden bridge as they babble and giggle amongst themselves. Din watches as Jovi runs a still-trembling hand over her tightly-knotted braids. The events of earlier got to her more than she let on. Something tells Din that if he really had been a stormtrooper, things would’ve ended a lot differently. 

“My father’s the mayor,” Jovi says. She looks back at Din as they begin to ascend towards the houses. “You’ll probably want to talk to him first. He’ll explain everything.” She furrows her brow a little. “But I never asked. What are you here for?”

“Just passing through,” Din replies. She studies him for a moment, deeming his response satisfactory, before continuing on her trek up the hill. He wonders if she’s heard stories about Mandalorians; if she can tell he’s lying, but doesn’t really care enough to prod. 

They round a corner onto a cobblestone-lined path in between rows of grass. The children run ahead, disappearing down the street. Outside, people slowly begin to materialize. The people didn’t die. They’ve just been in hiding. 

“You might get some funny looks,” Jovi says. “People here aren’t used to seeing men in uniform that aren’t trying to hurt us. Not anymore, at least.” 

Sure enough, the people outside have begun to notice him; they stare at him, puzzled, from the front stoops of their houses. Jovi leads him through the throngs of bewildered residents. A crowd begins to form behind them, whispering amongst themselves. They loosely follow them down the cobblestone streets towards the house at the top of the hill, stopping once they’ve reached the front door. 

Jovi pushes the front door open. The house is beautiful inside. White stone floors spill out in every direction, only interrupted by limestone walls and a big, spiraling staircase at the end of the foyer. Candles dangle from impossibly high cables. Sunlight filters in through triangular skylights on the ceiling. Everything he’d expect a Kan home to look like. Undeniably ancient, but aged with class, like a bottle of thousand-year-old Lorrelian wine. It almost makes him forget that the Empire is sitting on its haunches just a few miles away. 

“Dad,” she calls out, her voice echoing throughout the house. 

From one of the upstairs rooms comes out a man. Fairly young, but the silver streaks in his hair are telltale of a man who’s raised a child. Lord knows Din grew a few while taking care of Grogu. His gaze falls upon Din and Jovi. 

“Jovi,” her dad greets hesitantly. He bounds down the stairs quickly, eying Din up and down. “Who’s this?” 

“A visitor. He’s friendly,” Jovi says, putting emphasis on the last word. She turns to Din. “What’s your name, by the way? I forgot to ask.” 

Din opens his mouth to explain, but her father beats her to it, laughing and shaking his head. “No need for a name. I’ve met you folks before,” he says, nodding at Din. He turns to face his daughter. “He’s a Mandalorian, sweetheart. They don’t give their names like that.”

“Oh.” Jovi’s cheeks flush apologetically. “Sorry.” 

The man studies Din for a moment before offering a hand. “Well, welcome to Kan,” he greets. “Sorry if our welcome party wasn’t very welcoming. We had a bit of a run-in with the imperial officers this morning, so we had to stay away from town for some time.” 

Din shakes his hand. “Thank you. And it’s alright.” He glances over at Jovi, who’s standing quietly by her father’s side. “Your daughter gave me a very warm welcome.” A warm welcome that’s _still_ making his shoulder hurt, Din thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud. Jovi blinks up at him appreciatively. 

Jovi’s father looks between them before giving Jovi a nod of appreciation. “Glad to hear that my Jovi’s hospitable,” he says. He lets go of Din’s hand. “My name is Leys, Leys Harrick. I’m the mayor of Kan.” He smiles, and his smile is the exact same as his daughter’s: dimpled, polished. Din absentmindedly wonders if it’s in Kanians’ DNA to be perfect. It’s not like he’s never met one that’s _not_ before. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Din replies. 

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Leys says. He begins to lead Din out of the foyer, towards an open door leading outside. “But, uh, tell me…” He claps his hand on Din’s shoulder, ringed fingers clack-ing against the beskar. “What brings a Mandalorian to our little town? Nothing too nefarious, I’d hope.” The way he says it is polite, but his grasp is firm, like it’s more of a command. Din doesn’t really blame him. After what they’ve been through, if he were him, he wouldn’t particularly want bounty hunters sneaking around his town, either. 

“I’m looking for someone,” Din says. “I don’t want to endanger your town. I was just wondering if you could tell me where he was. I… know someone who’s looking for him.” And it’s not a lie—he doesn’t want to endanger their town. He’d never had any issue with anyone in Kan. He doesn’t want to start now. 

Leys lets out a sigh. “I see. That’s what I thought. Well, there’s not a lot of us left here, but I’ll tell you what I know. What’s his name?” 

“Kemp Alrick. You know him?” 

Something flashes across Leys’ face. His mouth parts, but his voice is cut short. Weakly, he leans to the side and calls out, “Jovi? Go get us two glasses.” Jovi nods and disappears into the other side of the house. 

Leys places a hand on Din’s shoulder once more. Quietly, he leads him to the courtyard, a raised platform above a regal garden. He lets go of Din and approaches the railing. Din quietly follows. The garden is beautiful, much like everything else in this town: composed of tropical and native flora alike. A path leads down the middle of it, lined with the same cobblestone as the streets behind them. At the end, a small pond full of what looks like rocafish and other fauna is illuminated by solar lamplight. 

A woman in a simple dress makes her way down the path with a bucket. Din watches her as she approaches the pond and dumps contents of the bucket into the water. The rocafish—tiny creatures that glitter like multicolored crystals as they swim about—swim up to the surface and lap up the food eagerly. 

Leys stands beside Din in silence, staring out beyond the foliage and towards the mountains in the distance. Then, in a low voice, he says, “Well, I don’t think I’ll be able to help you there.” 

“Is he off-planet?” Din asks.

“He’s dead,” Leys replies. 

Din takes a step back. _Dank farrik_. It’s not like this is the first quarry he’s lost before. Sometimes they leave town, sometimes they die, sometimes they get caught and cashed out on by someone else. That’s just the nature of bounty hunting, and that’s something he’s used to. But losing a bounty this high is tough. The new ship is nice, but it needs a lot of fixing: fixes that cost good money. Money that he just lost out on. 

Leys looks back at Din and swallows. “I’m sorry. I’m sure whoever sent you offered up a lot of money to bring him back.” He rubs his eyes. “He died years ago. I’m not sure why anyone would still be on the lookout for him, but I suppose you wouldn’t know, either.” 

Din nods. “Who was he? Did he live here?” 

“He did,” Leys says. “For some time. He—” Jovi materializes beside them, cutting his sentence short. He smiles and reaches for one of the glasses in her hand, giving Din a polite but firm look that tells him the conversation is finished. “Ah, Jovi. Thank you.” She hands out a glass to Din, but he shakes his head. She bows her head bashfully. 

“Mm.” Leys pours himself a drink and takes a long, lingering sip. “Oh. Sorry.” He leans back against the banister and chuckles slightly. “I forgot Mandalorians don’t always like taking off their helmets in front of people. Forgive me, it’s been a long time since I’ve been around anyone from your culture.” 

“That’s alright,” Din says. He’s been offered enough drinks to know it’s automatic: a courtesy extended to anyone you’re having a long conversation with. But that’s usually when he knows it’s time to go. He straightens out. He's not getting anything out of these people. “I appreciate all of your hospitality, but I think I’ll be leaving now. I don’t want to impose.” 

“What?” Jovi asks. She furrows her brow. “You just got here.”

Din opens his mouth to reply, but Leys beats him to it. “She’s right. Please, at least stay the night. We have plenty of rooms available.” He smiles. “The summer solstice ceremony is tomorrow. It’s beautiful. You should join us.” 

Din’s heard of the summer solstice celebration on Jiloh. Ancient Jilohvians worshipped the sun. Every year, around this time, they would have a big ceremony in celebration of the sun god. They’d light a big fire alongside the cliffs and sing and dance until the sun came back up. Now, most Jilohvians adhere to a different religion, but they’ve kept the celebration and made quite the tourist following along the way. He’s never particularly been interested in attending the celebration, but he’s heard it’s beautiful. If the kid was here, maybe he’d take him to it. He always liked bright things. 

“No, I’m alright,” Din assures them. “Thank you.”

Leys stands up, shaking his head. “Nonsense. You aren’t imposing at all. The least we can do is offer you a warm bed to spend the night. I’m sure it’s a lot more comfortable than sleeping in a ship.” 

Din sighs. “My ship is docked in the field. I don’t want any imperial officers or stragglers getting any wrong ideas.” 

Leys claps Din on the shoulder. “So it’s settled. You’ll move your ship to the landing dock, and I’ll make sure of it that my people take good care of it.” 

And there’s a lot of reasons why Din doesn’t really want to stay the night, but _dank farrik_ , he doesn’t remember the last time he slept on a comfortable bed, and his body aches from sleeping on the sleeping pad in the cargo deck of his ship. He can afford to spend one night in Kan. Then, after that, he can go off in search of his next bounty. 

“Alright,” Din says. “Thank you.”

✫彡

Din spends the rest of the afternoon talking to the mechanics at Kan’s landing bay. They’re polite (and human, thankfully—Din doesn’t quite have the energy to deal with droids today) and seem more than willing to make any fixes for him before he departs. There’s not really much to fix superficially except for a mild oil leak and an empty tank, but they insist they’ll check the ship to make sure everything is looking alright for him. And usually he’d be suspicious at that, think they have some ulterior motive, but this is just Kan: service is like that here. So he nods, thanks them, and descends the hill back towards the center of town. 

The mayor’s daughter greets him outside of the inn as the sun begins to set. She’s changed now, with her hair no longer in the braids she kept anxiously fumbling with before and a shawl draped over her shoulders. She waves at him in greeting as he approaches. 

“Hi,” she says. “My dad wanted me to show you where you’ll be staying.” She peers behind him, towards the landing dock where the ship sits. “Is that your ship?”

Din looks back. He’s still not quite used to calling this one _his_ ship. It’s nothing like the _Razor Crest_ : less compact and more elongated, a straight shot as opposed to a cockpit and a lower cargo hold like he’s used to. But it’s his ship now. Turning back around, Din deadpans, “No. I walked here.” 

The girl’s eyes glimmer with amusement. Shaking her head, she begins to lead him down the path into the inn. “So you’re a jokester,” she muses. “ _And_ a bounty hunter. That’s an interesting combination.” 

So she _did_ know what a Mandalorian was—even if not well enough to recognize him at first sight. At Din’s silence, she turns around and admits, “I knew what you were, by the way.” A smile creeps across her face, a lone dimple materializing in her left cheek. “I just didn’t want my father knowing I snuck into his study and read his books.” 

"Clever,” Din notes. That makes her grin more. Shrugging ever-so-slightly, she stops at the end of the path and pries a heavy wooden door open. Din follows her inside. 

Outside, the nighttime cold has begun to seep in, but the inn is warm. The foyer is even taller in this building: circular, a spiral staircase leading up to a series of rooms upstairs. At the other end of the building, a tavern lit by candlelight and alive with the sound of chatter. A delicious smell wafts in from the kitchen. 

“The food here is amazing,” Jovi notes from beside him. “The innmaker knows you’re Mandalorian. She’ll leave your tray outside of your door in the morning." She takes him up the spiral staircase, all the way to the top floor. Din follows her, eying all of the doors on the way over. Such a popular destination and yet he’s the only one here. So much has changed since the last time he visited. 

She stops in front of the last door and jimmies the door open. “And here it is,” she says. She sweeps her arm forward in a grand gesture. “Your room for the night.” 

Din enters. His accommodations are nice: a spacious room with a double bed and two balconies. The doors to both balconies are spread wide open, letting the cool coastal breeze drift throughout the room. Way nicer than his normal accommodations anywhere he stays, and worlds nicer than the one-inch sleeping pad he’s been using the past few weeks. 

“If you want to wash off, the bathroom is down the hall and to the right,” she says. 

Din nods. “Thank you,” he says. He walks up to the balcony and leans up against the doorway. This one looks out to the ocean: from up here, he can see over the buildings out onto the cliffs and hear the waves crashing down below. The sun is setting on the horizon and dark blue is beginning to seep into the sky, bringing nighttime along with it.

As he stares off into the distance, he can’t help but start thinking about who this Alrick guy was. He couldn’t have died right before Din got here—when Din brought him up, Leys looked like he’d just seen a ghost. It’s just odd that his client didn’t know. High-profile clients like these… they have connections in high places. He should’ve known where the _kriffling_ guy was _buried_ , even. Something isn’t right. 

“Something on your mind?” Jovi asks behind him. 

Din blinks out of his daze. “Just thinking,” he replies. 

Jovi shifts her weight to the other foot. She stares up at him expectantly, waiting for a response, but doesn’t get it. After a long silence, she says, “Well, I’ll go ahead and leave you be. Goodnight, stranger.” 

“Wait,” Din says. 

She turns around. “Yes?” 

“You never finished explaining what happened earlier,” Din points out. 

Her playful demeanor drops immediately. Clearing her throat, she says, “I told you, I shot you. I don’t know what else there is to say.” A lie. This time he knows for sure. Din can pick a lie out like a needle in a stack of dry balmgrass.

“Did you?” Din asks. He takes a step towards her. “Because I don't know any kind of blaster that can throw a man across a room." 

“I—I don't know what to tell you," she replies quickly. She takes a wary step back. 

“The truth,” Din replies firmly. He takes another step closer, but slowly enough as to not cause alarm. “You can tell me. It’s okay.”

Jovi swallows. Looking away, she stares at a spot in the distance like it'll save her and take her away. "I just... shot you," she says in a small voice. Her eyes lock with his once more: big and afraid. "There's nothing else to explain." 

“Nothing else to explain about what?” a voice calls from the doorway. Din turns and a petite woman is standing there with a towel in her hand. She steps into the room and clears her throat. Jovi straightens up, clasping her hands obediently at her back. 

“My name’s Opal. I’m the innkeeper,” she says. She places the towel down neatly on the bed. Eying Jovi, she says, “It seems that Jovi’s already got you settled. But can I get you anything else?” 

“I’m fine, thank you,” Din says. 

“Alright then,” the woman says. She gives Jovi a pointed look. “We’ll be on our way out then. You have a nice night.” She leads Jovi out into the hallway and closes the door behind them. Din stares blankly at the back of the door, trying to comprehend what just happened. She didn't shoot him. But the fear in her eyes told him she didn't exactly know what she _did_ do, either. 

He sighs and settles down on the bed. He’s had a long day. Tomorrow, he’ll get his answers. But tonight, for the first time in a long time, he'll sleep, and he'll sleep well.


	3. The Saber & The Emerald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din has nightmares of what may be to come, as well as how close he came to losing what he cares about. During the summer solstice, he goes out in search of information—and discovers something he doesn't know what to do with.

_Din enters the bridge, breath ragged, with a captured Moff Gideon in tow. The Dark Saber, still engaged, swings back and forth in his hand. Bo-Katan’s face drops, eyes glued to the Dark Saber in Din’s hand. Panicked, she asks, “What happened?”_

_“He brought him in alive, that’s what happened,” Cara says, approaching Din and Grogu with a smile. She strokes Grogu’s cheek. “And now the New Republic is going to have to double the payment.”_

_From beside them, Moff Gideon quips, “That’s not what she’s talking about.” The group turns to look at him. His smile is smug, knowing, and he eyes Bo-Katan expectantly. “Why don’t you kill him now… and take it?”_

_Bo-Katan glances between Moff Gideon and Din, whose grip loosens on the Dark Saber in confusion. Cara shoves Moff Gideon down in anger, but he just grins up at Din. Always knowing. Always one step ahead of them. “It’s yours, now,” he tells him._

_“What is?” Din asks, clutching Grogu closer to him._

_“The Dark Saber,” Moff Gideon explains. He sits up with his hands still tied in front of him. “It belongs to you.”_

_Retracting the Dark Saber, Din approaches Bo-Katan and hands it out to her, head bowed. “Now it belongs to her.” Yet Bo-Katan doesn’t reach out. She stares back at Din with dismay written across her face. She won’t take it._

_From behind him, Moff Gideon’s voice is full of amusement. “She can’t take it,” he says. “It must be won in battle. In order for her to wield the Dark Saber again, she’ll need to defeat you in combat.”_

_Din glances back at Bo-Katan. The look on her face tells him that he isn’t lying. “I yield,” he offers up, holding it out once more. “It’s yours.” He never wanted it anyway. All he wanted was to get it out of Moff Gideon’s reach so he couldn’t hurt the kid. His work is done. It’s not his weapon to claim, and it’s not his throne to take._

_“Oh, no,” Moff Gideon muses. He breaks out into laughter. He’s enjoying this. All capturing him did was give him front-seat tickets to something he’d been waiting on for some time. Pulling himself up with a chuckle, he continues, “It doesn’t work that way. The Dark Saber doesn’t have power, the story does.” He looks over at Bo-Katan. “Without that blade, she’s a pretender to the throne.”_

_Bo-Katan swallows visibly. Voice tight, she looks back at Din and says, “He’s right.”_

_“Come on,” Din urges, sounding more desperate. “Just take it.”_

_An alarm sounds overhead. Din turns to the sound of the noise and just as quickly as he does, he feels Grogu being ripped away from him. He reaches out, but it’s too late. Bo-Katan presses her blaster to his tiny chin and breathes out shakily. The others quickly raise their weapons in her direction. Even Koska, ever ready for wrecking havoc, gawks at her friend in shock._

_“What are you doing?” Din gasps out._

_“Drop your blaster,” Fennec orders from behind them._

_Bo-Katan doesn’t oblige. Instead, she slowly reaches for her helmet, which is set on the monitor beside her, and slips it back over her head. Her hand trembles as she does so._

_“Bo-Katan,” Din begs. “Please. Don’t do this.”_

_“I have to,” she says. “For Mandalore. For the throne. For our people.”_

_Din tries to step forward, but Bo-Katan just tightens her grip on the trigger. Even the slightest curl of her finger could kill The Child instantly. He steps back and, in a panic, tries to figure out his next step. This was never in the plan. She was the one who offered to help._

_"Put the blaster down," Cara orders. There's desperation woven into her voice and hanging in the air._

_“This doesn’t need to happen,” Din urges. “I’ll give you the saber. No one will know I ever had it. We’ll all say you won it in battle after defeating Moff Gideon.”_

_Bo-Katan shifts her hold on Grogu. He looks back at Din in fear, eyes welling up with teasr. He whimpers quietly. “You have your creed, Mando,” she says. “I have mine. I’m sorry.”_

_“Bo-Katan, please,” Din pleads._

_Underneath the helmet, she stills. “I’m sorry. This is The Way.”_

_Din lunges forward to stop her, but it’s too late. Her finger curls against the trigger and Grogu tumbles out of her arms, limp. Dead. The others begin to shoot in her direction, desperate, but Din crumbles down to the floor. He lifts Grogu into his arms and cradles him against his chest, letting out a mournful cry. He failed him. He failed him. He swore he would protect him and he let him die._

_His left hand reaches up towards his helmet and tugs. Somewhere beside him, through the sounds of blaster fire, Cara screams for him, but he doesn’t listen. He tugs the helmet all of the way off and presses Grogu’s cheek to his._

_“I’m so sorry,” he sobs out. “I’m so sorry.”_

_All around him, his friends start to fall dead. He doesn't even know how she's killing them, but there they are, collapsing onto the floor with dead eyes staring blankly towards him. They were all doomed the moment they stepped foot on this ship, and they didn’t even know it. On the other side of the bridge doors, something pounds, hard, but he pays it no heed. He just sits there, crumpled, with the kid he’d loved so much dead in his arms. The pounding gets louder, almost drowning out the sound of Bo-Katan’s boots approaching him. He looks up, tears in his eyes, and comes face-to-face with her blaster._

_“Kill me,” he tells her. He has nothing to live for anymore._

_She looks down at him and takes a breath. Behind her, Koska eyes him in disapproval. Then, she pulls the trigger—and darkness._

_The air is cold. For a second Din thinks he’s dead: that this is the afterlife, a cold, dark, and soulless place. He failed the kid. He failed himself. It's the afterlife he deserves. But across the room, twin fires come to life. Two torches illuminate an intricate black throne and reveal ancient writings on the near-black walls. It looks so different, yet he recognizes where he is immediately. This is Mandalore._

_His breath is ragged. Something is heavy in his hand, and he looks down. The Dark Saber. His hand trembles as he flicks it on and it whirs to life. He stares at it, entranced, as the energy running through the blade hums and vibrates. It licks at the air around it, faintly illuminating the otherwise dim room._

_He takes a step forward, Dark Saber lighting the way, when his boot nudges against something. He glances down and stumbles back. Bo-Katan, eyes glazed over. A big, charred abscess in the center of her chest. He retracts the Dark Saber and trips backwards, something catching his fall. Another body. He recoils and continues scrambling back until his back hits a metal wall._

_The room is filled with bodies. All in cracked Mandalorian armor, all with the same charred fatal wounds. The smell of burned flesh reaches his nose through the helmet and he gags, stifling the urge to vomit. He killed them. He killed all of them. Frantically, he tosses the Dark Saber aside and looks in vain for a way out. There is none. The walls are all sealed shut._

_Something roars to life behind him. He turns around, heart racing, only to see that the torches have multiplied. A distant, faint chorus of voices chant something too quiet for him to understand. He can feel the light calling to him, urging him to approach. He doesn’t realize he’s walking towards it until he’s mere feet away._

_Now that he’s closer, the voices are loud enough to be distinguishable. It’s Mando’a. In impossibly low voices, they chant, “Take the throne.” Again and again, until the sound is roaring in his ears and he can’t escape it. His legs carry him the rest of the way and then—the chanting stops._

_The throne is large. So large that he has to stare up at it to see the whole thing. His heart thumps in his chest as he reaches out in spite of himself. Cautiously, he runs his hand along the cool beskar that forms the throne. Behind him, a quiet voice whispers, “It’s yours, Din.”_

_He lets out a breath. It is. It is his. Hands trembling, he turns around and goes to sit. The voices let out a harmonious cry that shocks him to his core as the Dark Saber shoots across the room into his open palm. Live and ready to kill._

_“Din Djarin,” the voice from before cries out. “Ruler of Mandalore.”_

Din sits up with a start. Sweat beads across his forehead and down his back, soaking through the undergarments beneath his armor. In a panic, he reaches blindly for his helmet, only to realize he fell asleep wearing it. He falls back onto the bed with a thud. That felt so real. They always feel so real. The more time that passes, the more these dreams start to feel like premonitions and not just nightmares fueled by exhaustion. 

The kid’s safe, he tells himself. And he is: he’s _Maker_ knows how many light years away, under the protection of a man who killed a dozen dark troopers to save him. No one can get to him, not even Din himself. No one even knows where he is. But the relief Din feels knowing the kid is safe doesn’t make the dreams feel any less real. 

The Dark Saber’s tucked away in the least suspecting corner of his ship, behind boxes and boxes of supplies and ammunition. It’s been there since the moment he first got the ship. If he could destroy it, he would—because _stars_ , has he tried. The thing is indestructible. And he could probably dispose of it if he really wanted to; bury it on some tiny planet in the furthest reaches of the galaxy that no one would ever think to search. Because he really wants nothing to do with it. Because he doesn’t even know what to do with it. All he knows is he doesn’t want to kill anyone, and he definitely doesn’t want to be king. 

Din stands up and pulls the curtains shut. Then, carefully, he lifts the helmet off his head and wipes his forehead dry. He looks around the room. It’s brighter without the helmet on, even through the curtains obscuring the outside world from view. There’s a mirror on the other side of the wall, by the balcony overlooking the cliff side, but he avoids looking into it. He doesn’t need mirrors. He doesn’t even remember the last time he peered into one to do anything except shave his face. 

There’s a knock at the door, and Din quickly slides his helmet back onto his head. “Good morning,” the voice greets from the other side of the door. The woman from last night—the innkeeper. “I’ve left some food in front of your door. Feel free to eat it in your room.” 

“Thank you,” Din calls out. He listens for her footsteps to disappear back down the stairs before he goes to open the door. And sure enough, there it is: a meal fit for a king. _Not a king._ Din grimaces. That’s a word that carries too much weight right now. It’s just the type of meal he hasn’t had in a long time. Bread, poached eggs, diced Jilohvian potatoes, bacon, and a freshly-squeezed glass of juice. He glances back and forth through the empty hallway before locking the door behind him. 

He settles down on the bed and places his helmet neatly next to him. Then he digs in, hardly taking any time to savor the food. The last time he ate was days ago, right before Arkanis. Food is the last thing on his mind when he’s out hunting a bounty—especially when he’s throwing himself into anything he can to forget recent events. He eats quickly, but he eats. It’s more than enough to carry him through today and the trip back to Arkanis to deliver the news. 

His plan today is simple: try to find out more information about this Alrick guy, bid Kan adieu, and go find his client to tell him all he knows. Sometimes clients still pay even when their targets are dead, particularly if he provides valuable information along with the news. He won’t get nearly as much money as he would’ve if he’d found Alrick alive, but it’ll be something, and it’ll mean getting off this planet and away from the guilt eating away at him. It’s not his job to save them. He’s saved enough people. 

He wipes his mouth and slips the helmet back on. Time to get some answers. 

✫彡

The school is in recess when Din arrives. The children are all outside, running back and forth in the grass beside the schoolhouse and singing songs with one another. It’s nice to know that even in the face of so much suffering, not much has changed. Jovi stands off to the side, talking to a woman with a swollen belly. Din hoped to find her here. She spots him and offers up a short little wave, excusing herself. 

“Hey, stranger,” she greets as she approaches. “Nice to see you didn’t fly off at first sign of dawn.” 

“Turns out I still have some business to attend to,” he replies. He nods towards the children. “You’re a teacher?” 

Jovi shifts her weight from one foot to another. “Something like that,” she says. “The schoolteacher’s pregnant, so she needs a little extra help with the children sometimes. Plus, it’s something to keep me distracted.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s a womanly job, which keeps my father happy.” 

That, Din’s sure it does. He’s never been a part of a culture where women aren’t expected to pull the same weight as men, but Jilohvian culture is definitely one of those. He knows it’s just tradition, the way things are, but it’s always struck him as weird. The women in the Tribe always carried their weight just as well as the rest. 

“Um,” Jovi says, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. “By the way, sorry about last night.” She glances back at the schoolteacher, but she seems preoccupied watching over the children. “Opal and her husband are good friends with my father, so they watch over me a lot. She lectured me when we left your room last night.” 

Din cocks his head to the side in questioning. Her cheeks tinge pink. 

“It’s… it’s silly,” she says, gesturing for him to walk alongside her. She leads him towards the cliffside. Once they’re well out of earshot, she continues, “I’m a young woman, and you’re a stranger and all. She thought it was a little… unladylike to be with you in your room alone. You know.” She raises her eyebrows. “' _Temptation_ ,’ and all.” 

"I'm a Mandalorian," Din replies. There's no explicit Mandalorian code against sleeping with people—even in the Tribe, with all of its strict expectations, people found ways to satiate their... needs—and she's nice looking, sure, but fucking a little Kanian girl the night he met her? It wouldn't be against any rules, but Din sure wouldn't want to do it. 

Jovi's cheeks flush. Kicking at the rocks nestled in between blades of meadow grass, she says, "Everyone has needs, I guess. I don't know. They're... traditional." She tucks a hair behind her ear. "By the way, sorry for not recognizing your armor. I’ve never seen one of you in real life before. I’ve only read about you in books.” 

“That’s alright,” Din says. 

Jovi lets out a breath and stops walking. “Okay. So what were you coming to talk to me for?” 

Din contemplates not asking her. She might not know. It’s pretty clear her father has made an effort to shield her from things like these. But it’s worth a shot. “Yesterday, I asked your father about someone. A man named Kemp Alrick.” 

“Is he your quarry?” Jovi asks.

Din nods. “Yeah,” he says. “He is. Or he was. Did you know him?” 

Jovi bites her lip and thinks for a moment. Shaking her head, she says, “Mm, no, I didn’t. I’m sorry. Did he live in Kan?” 

Din glances back at the schoolhouse, where the children have all settled in a circle around the schoolteacher. He looks at Jovi, who just gives him an assuring smile. “It’s fine. I told her I’d be back in a second.” 

“He… did,” Din replies. “Or at least that’s what they told me. These things are usually told on a need-to-know basis. All I know is that he was here. And according to your father, he died years ago.” 

“Oh.” Jovi breathes out. “Well, I don’t know anyone named Kemp Alrick that lived here. But he could’ve died when I was young, or he could’ve just been stopping through, like you. My father’s made friends with a lot of tourists over the years.” Unconvincing, but possible, Din supposes. The client was just pretty insistent that Alrick lived here, and he doesn’t really see why he’d lie with so much money on the line. 

“I see,” Din says. “If he did live here, where could I find more information about him?” 

Jovi furrows her brow and squints in the direction of the town. After a moment, she points towards a building in the middle of the square. Another tall tower. “Town records, I guess. They’d be in the library. But why don’t I go ask my father about it?” she offers. “I’m sure he’d be willing to talk to you about it.” 

Quickly, Din replies, “No. No, that won’t be necessary. I already bugged your dad enough about that. I know having a Mandalorian in your town isn’t exactly comforting, given current circumstances. I’ll check out the library. Thank you.” 

“No problem,” Jovi says. “You want me to head over there with you?” 

“Jovi,” a voice calls breathlessly from behind them before Din can answer. Jovi closes her eyes in a half-grimace. “Kriff,” she mutters. Din turns to locate the source of her dismay. 

It’s the innkeeper. Now that they’re in the light, she looks older—closer to Din’s age than the girl’s, if not even a bit older. As she approaches, she eyes Din up and down before turning to Jovi. Not in a particularly malicious way, but in the way one inspects a wild animal that appears at their front stoop, not quite sure if it’s friend or foe. “Good morning,” she greets. “Jovi, darling, have you forgotten?” 

“Forgotten what?” Jovi asks, feigning politeness. The look on her face tells Din she knows exactly what she’s “forgotten” about. 

Opal raises her eyebrows. “The Summer Solstice? We have to get you ready.” 

Jovi’s face falls. “Opal,” she says, “It’s not even midday.” 

Opal presses her lips together. Twirling the stray curls that have fallen out of Jovi’s braids, she says, “The ceremony is in a few hours. Don’t you want to look pretty?”

Mustering up a half-smile, the girl says, “No, no. I do. It’s just… It’s early.” 

Tsking, Opal says, “The more time, the better.” She looks back at Din and smiles at him, teeth perfectly white. “Tonight’s a special night. Jovi’s going to—”

“Okay,” Jovi interrupts abruptly, earning an odd look from Opal. She flashes Din a look. “Let’s go get ready. Talk to you later, stranger.” She grabs Opal by the hand and begins to lead her towards the valley. 

“We hope to see you at the ceremony,” Opal calls out to Din. Before she can say anything else, Jovi whisks her into another conversation. They disappear down the hill. 

Kind of odd, but Din’s not in the best position to question it. Din looks back at the library. Not exactly a place he’d want to just walk into and demand information at by himself in the dead of day, but definitely a building he can get into at night. And suddenly, his departure plans have delayed just a few more hours. Maybe he'll be going to the summer solstice after all. 

✫彡

The festivities go from just before sunset to well into the evening, which gives Din a decent window of time to get in and out of the library without suspicion. Since tonight is a town-wide affair, the librarian will definitely be in attendance. All he has to do is stay around for a while, creep away, and get the information he needs, then be out in the morning—that is, if Alrick really did live in Kan. If not, then he has another problem on his hands.

Din goes to visit his ship later in the day. The mechanics are hard at work on it, and they give him a nod of greeting as he opens the cargo doors. He takes a quick shower, long enough to make sure he doesn’t stink, and quickly gets dressed and armored again. He makes sure the Dark Saber is still shrouded from view before walking back out once more. 

The sun is close to setting, so he makes his way down to the valley, where the ceremony is to be held. Much of the town is already beginning to gather, talking amongst themselves by a glowing firepit and all dressed elegantly from head-to-toe. They all spare him short, inquisitive glances as he passes.

“Mando!” a voice calls. Leys comes into view, dressed in a regal robe and salt-and-pepper hair slicked back neatly. He raises his hand in greeting. Once they’re close enough, he extends his hand. “Good to see you. Glad you could make it. I wasn’t sure if you’d stay.” 

“Seems like quite a ceremony,” Din replies. 

Leys laughs. “Yes indeed. You mind joining me for a moment? I want to grab a drink while we wait for the ceremony to start. We typically start right at sunset.” 

Din nods. He rarely feels out of place, but here, he almost does: standing among a crowd of well-dressed people who can’t stop staring at him. Leys smiles easily and gestures for him to follow. They walk back to his house, up the front steps and into the kitchen. With the windows open, he can hear the music playing from the other end of the valley. 

“Why do you celebrate the sun after it sets?” Din asks.

Leys reaches into the cabinet and pulls out a bottle of Corellian whiskey, then a glass. He uncorks it and pours himself a glass. Taking a long sip, he replies, “Well, Mando, that is an excellent question.” He places his glass down on the table and pours himself some more. “The Jilohvians of old were hard workers.” He snorts and gestures around at the house. “I know it’s hard to believe it, what with these beautiful, elegant houses they built, but they worked constantly from dawn til dusk. Every day except for on days of rest. And they owed much of that to the sun—it’s part of why things grow so well here, at the bottom of the valley.

“Our primary income comes from being a port city now, but our traditions are the same. Every year, on the day of the summer solstice and the longest day of the year, our people would come together and celebrate,” he continues. “They wanted to thank the sun for its work and celebrate as it rested on the day that it worked the hardest.” 

Din nods. He eyes Leys’ attire: something far nicer than what he saw him wear the day before. “Do you normally dress this elegantly for these sorts of things?” he asks. 

Leys takes another sip. “Well, sometimes,” he replies. “Summer solstice is a big celebration. But we like to offer good news to the sun when we can, so we leave many of our big celebrations for the day of summer solstice. We offer them up for good fortune and a bountiful harvest—of whatever we need it to be. This year, though, is extra special.” 

“What’s the occasion?” Din asks. 

A smile spreads across Leys’ face. Proudly, he says, “Tonight, we give the good news. My Jovi is getting betrothed.” 

Din coughs in spite of himself. “Oh,” he says. “Congratulations.” He hadn’t really given it much thought beforehand, but the people who live here get married young—very young. Truth be told, she looked a little old for being unmarried. He thought most of these people got married fresh into adulthood. 

“Thank you,” Leys replies. 

Din clears his throat, suddenly feeling it dry. “Who’s the lucky guy?” 

“The innkeepers' kid,” he says. “Adriam. He’s an excellent young man. They’re less than a year apart. We’ve been planning this for quite some time now.” He pauses and takes another sip. “I know we sound traditional, but this is just how we preserve our culture. And with our population dwindling, we need young people to start families now more than ever.” 

An unpleasant feeling settles in Din’s stomach. He was never really against arranged marriages. To someone who’d vowed to follow an aromantic lifestyle, they made a lot more sense than blindly looking for love with dozens of prospects. Arrangements like those provide security and structure that other relationships just don’t have. It’s just that hearing someone talk about their daughter like she’s just a pawn to marry off makes him feel uneasy. Someone that young doesn’t need a commitment that heavy.

Which, Din admits, sounds pretty hypocritical coming from the mouth of a man who was fully indoctrinated into the Mandalorian ways before he was ten years old. By the time he was her age, he’d already started bounty hunting. It’s not his place. He has to bite his tongue.

Leys must’ve noted his hesitation, because he eyes Din before setting his drink down. “Has Jovi talked to you about this already? Is she upset?” 

“No,” Din replies. “No, I had no idea.” Which, _Maker_ , he really didn’t, but everything makes so much sense now. Why the innkeeper was so appalled by her being alone in his room with him, even if he was a Mandalorian. Why she was so insistent that Jovi get ready long before the ceremony. She wants her to be a good wife for her son. 

Leys shoulders drop slightly. “Oh. Well… Jovi, she’s already getting older. Older than most of us were when we got married—I was twenty-one when my late wife and I had her, even,” he admits. “She’s never been very sold on the whole idea. We let it pass because of everything that’s been happening, but... “ He looks down at the ground and sighs. “I don’t know. It’s hard to deal with this without my wife. She was so much better with these things. She and Jovi’s sister were ecstatic when she got betrothed. She was lucky enough to see that before she passed.” 

Leys eyes soften. Sighing again, he continues, “Her sister got married a few years back. It’s tradition here that the parents watch over their children’s interactions with the opposite sex and determine their best match. When they're old enough, both families come to an agreement and finalize the wedding plans. I wouldn’t really call it an arranged marriage—it’s a pairing. Siraya never had an issue with that. She loved her pairing.”

“I didn’t know you had multiple children,” Din says. Such a large house and he’s yet to hear a single peep from anyone else, save the servant from yesterday. 

Leys shakes his head. “I wouldn’t expect you to,” he says. “Siraya and her husband left some years ago. He came upon a large tract of land out in the Outer Rim.” He sniffs. “Last we heard, they had a child on the way. She hasn’t visited since. I suppose that’s why Jovi resents the pairing so much. But Adriam is a good kid, he really is, and I know she cares about him.” 

Din nods. The situation’s a bit more complicated than he thought. He still doesn’t quite get it, but he doesn’t really know if he blames the man for what he’s doing. He just wants to provide his daughter with a good life amidst so much chaos. 

Leys rubs his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says, standing up suddenly. “I didn’t mean to turn this into a therapy session. Um, do you want anything?” He looks at Din expectantly, then pauses. “Oh. Sorry. I got so wound up in my story, I completely forgot…”

His eyes suddenly glaze over. “Oh. Jovi, darling,” he calls out. He stands up and walks past Din, arms outstretched.

Din turns around. Jovi is descending the stairs, hair pinned back in intricate curls. She dons a long, white dress that she has to lift over her ankles to keep from tripping over and a translucent shawl over her shoulders. _Pretty_. Opal really meant it when she said she’d make her look nice. 

“You look beautiful,” Leys says, rushing to greet her. He places his hands on both sides of her face and sighs. “So beautiful.” 

From the top of the stairs comes a proud, “I know.” Opal descends the stairs, dressed in garbs equally as elegant as Leys’. She smiles at them both and tucks a stray curl behind Jovi’s ear. “I already had a beautiful canvas to begin with.” 

“Thanks,” Jovi says quietly. Her gaze flickers across the foyer to meet Din’s, then quickly back to her father’s. Pink spreads across her cheeks. She didn’t expect him to be here. Judging by how embarrassed she’d been in the field earlier, she probably didn’t particularly want him here, either. 

“Are you ready?” Leys asks her. He waits for her response, eyes filled with hope. 

Jovi lets out a small breath. She fumbles with the ribbon tied around her waist. In a small voice, she says, “I think so.” Leys nods and presses a small kiss to her forehead. 

“Then let’s go,” Leys says. He takes both women by the arm and begins to lead them out the front door. Peering backwards, he says, “Mando, please. We’d love it if you joined us.” 

At first, Din really wants to give an excuse—that he doesn’t feel well, that he doesn’t like parties, anything. Because it’s not a lie: he’s so out of his element here, surrounded by rich people and arranged marriages and a world he’s not a part of. But he doesn’t. He just nods, and he follows them. 

✫彡

The ceremony is nice. For the first little while, they celebrate the way their ancestors did: through song, prayer, and dance. Din stands off to the side, watching it all without taking part. He wouldn’t know how. He doesn’t sing and he definitely doesn’t dance. 

Afterwards, they call Leys and the boy’s parents to the front of the fire. The parents introduce themselves and call the children forward. Jovi emerges, dress flowing behind her, and stands stiffly by her father. Adriam follows shortly behind her. He’s a spitting image of his own father, who he stands beside with a broad smile stretched across his face. Same broad shoulders, same smile, same brown hair. 

They announce the engagement and the people erupt into cheers. Adriam reaches for Jovi’s hand and places a thin band on her ring finger, adorned with a polished gemstone. An emerald. A precious stone Din could spot from a mile away. She smiles at him politely, offering him a small kiss on the cheek, but she can’t hide the dismay on her face when she looks away. 

And then that’s it—the celebration continues. The music starts playing once again and the people begin to sing and dance, spirits lifted by the news. A new couple means stability. It means the promise of a new generation in the future in the face of so much uncertainty. Halfway through the next song, Din slips out. 

Shrouded by the darkness of the night, he’s able to get back to town without anyone noticing. Back in the valley, the music still plays, the celebration just beginning. He has a long time before it’s even over, and by the time it ends, they’ll assume he just went to bed early. 

The front door to the library is, of course, closed, but there’s another way in: through the top. Din noticed a patio on the roof of the building when he’d been in his rented room earlier. He looks around, making sure that no one might be lurking, before shooting his grappling hook at the railing on the roof. He pulls himself up the side of the building in silence. When he reaches the top, the doorknob jiggles open easily—unlocked. He slides his way through the door and closes it behind him. 

The library is silent, except for the distant chattering and music in the distance. He walks down the stairs to the first floor, which is lined with row after row of bookshelves. Not what he’s looking for. He approaches the front desk, set in front of a promising row of cabinets. 

When he slides the first cabinet open, he’s met with a surprising amount of files. The labels are incredibly hard to read in the dim moonlight coming through the skylight, so he switches his flashlight on and shuffles through the files. Paperwork. Administrative paperwork, not anything about the people that live there. He slides the cabinet closed and goes to the next one. Still nothing. He tries the third one and is met with even more files, but they’re promising—and alphabetized. Names. Exactly what he was looking for. 

He holds his flashlight to the cabinet and gets to work sorting through the names. The list is long, comprised of probably centuries of people who’ve lived and died in this city, and it takes him a long time to even get through the first few A-names. He slows down as he starts to approach the A—Ls, making sure he doesn’t miss anything. But the A—L names come and go with no sign of Kemp Alrick. 

He starts again with the same results. Then again, after closing his eyes to a second, to make sure his vision isn’t too strained to read correctly. But there’s no sign of anyone named Kemp Alrick, not even a family member with the same surname. For all intents and purposes, to the town of Kan, the man does not exist.

Which means that someone is lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like the length of this chapter, so I think I might be sticking with it for future chapters. 5,000 words is a pretty good general rule of thumb—and trust me, you'll have plenty more to read soon if you're wanting more. :) Merry Christmas Eve, if you celebrate it, and if not, happy Thursday!


	4. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din's offered a deal.

Din slept in his ship last night. His back is sore from being back on that one-inch mattress pad again, but at least he was able to sleep without his helmet on—even if it wasn’t particularly restful. He falls asleep late and wakes up early, just in time to catch the sunrise. He settles down in the captain’s chair and calculates his next move. The sun hangs low over the horizon.

If Alrick lived here, he would’ve been in the town records. Alrick not existing in the town records means that Leys wasn’t telling the truth—and maybe his client isn’t either. Leys made it clear that he wasn’t going to discuss it further, at least not in front of his daughter. He might be hiding him, or at least keeping his real story a secret… And if he isn’t, then that means his client’s information was faulty. Sometimes the client doesn’t know everything. Sometimes the stories change, sure, but something about this feels off. Like a set-up. 

He could just leave. At this point, there’s not much more he can do. He could just confront the mayor, he guesses, but what if there’s a reason why he’s hiding him? What if Leys is a part of the imperial remnants on Jiloh? Din lost most of his weaponry when he lost the  _ Razor Crest. _ He’s not prepared to defend himself alone and against an entire imperial faction. 

Guilt rises up in his stomach. At least, he hopes that the man isn’t a part of the imperial faction. That would mean that he willfully subjected his people, those children, to so much suffering.  _ Kriffling,  _ even his own daughter. But there’s not much he can do if that’s the case. He can’t take them down on his own, even if he wants to. He just has to be on his way. There’s nothing more he can do. 

And,  _ stars _ , speaking of that girl. He still doesn’t even know what the hell she did to him the day he arrived here. She’s lying, too, through her teeth, and the one time she was willing to speak about it, they were interrupted. Given, she doesn’t deserve to suffer, but still: she’s keeping a secret—a secret that could’ve killed him—and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get anything out of either of them. It’s like this planet has a miraculous way of always interrupting him when he’s about to finally understand what’s going on. 

There’s a knock outside. At first, Din thinks it’s nothing; maybe just one of the mechanics making some last minute adjustments. But when he hears it a second and a third time, it’s obvious that’s not the case. He pauses. Quickly, he engages the holocam directly above the cargo door. 

_ Leys _ . He’s standing right in front of the cargo door, rubbing his hands together in the cold. Din watches him for a moment, unsure if he’s alone. The holocam can only capture so much of its periphery—there could very well be troopers lined up all around the ship, waiting to pick him up. And he could pick most of them off, definitely, but what if they prepared for that? 

Din shakes his head. He can’t keep being so paranoid. Traveling with the kid has made him soft, something that he can’t afford now that he’s alone again. He can defend himself against one man. He drags himself out of his seat and walks down to the cargo hold.

The cargo hold is still relatively empty, save for the boxes of rations obscuring the Dark Saber and a collection of weapons on the opposite wall. They’re not many—he lost all but a handful of his weapons when the  _ Razor Crest  _ blew up, and while he’s restocked on a handful of things, it’s not nearly the amount he used to have—but they’re enough for now. He wills himself to ignore the Dark Saber and walk up to the weapons rack, holstering his blaster. 

He gives the cargo hold one last look before opening the door. Leys stands at the bottom, arms crossed, staring up expectantly at him. Din comes down slowly and eyes the landing dock around him. He’s alone. He slows to a stop and nods at the man. 

Leys breathes out. Nervously, he greets, “Mando. Your room was empty. We thought you’d left.” 

Din glances over at the top of the hill, where a small crowd has formed. They all huddle together in the early-morning cold, unsure of what’s going on. Jovi stands apart from the group with a stoll draped over her body. They should all be asleep. 

“I wanted to sleep in my own bed,” Din replies. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yes,” Leys says. “Yes. Well…” He scratches his head. “No. Listen, Mando. Opal said she saw you last night.” 

Din swallows. “At the summer solstice ceremony?” he asks, feigning obliviousness. “It was nice. I’m sorry that I didn’t know how to partake. I left after the announcement.” 

Leys looks back at the others. The innkeepers materialize at the top of the hill and give him a short nod. Clearing his throat, he says, “They saw you break into the library last night. Opal forgot her robe at the inn and went to go get it. As she was leaving, she saw you peering around with a flashlight.”

_ Dank farrik.  _ He thought he’d been subtle about it. Everyone was supposed to be at the celebration. 

“Look,” Leys says. “I don’t want any trouble. I just would like to know why you were fishing through our town records in the middle of the night. That was a huge breach of trust and frankly…” He sighs. “I don’t think we’ve done anything to deserve that. We’ve been hospitable during a very dangerous time.”

And they have—something that Din has been grateful for. They’ve been nothing but polite the past few days. That’s not the issue. “And I don’t think you’ve all been entirely truthful with me,” Din says. 

Leys doesn’t budge. Eying the blaster holstered to Din’s hip, he firmly replies, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I think you do.” Din’s gloved hand slides closer to the blaster. “And I think you need to explain.” And Din doesn’t want to shoot him in front of all of these people, not really. He’s unarmed and it would just look unprovoked. He’s past killing people just to get things over with. But Leys doesn’t know that.

Recognition flashes across Leys’ face. He knows exactly what Din is talking about. He swallows. “Are you going to kill me in front of my citizens?” 

Din’s finger twitches. “No. But I’m going to need you to talk.” 

Leys finally lets out a breath of acceptance. He looks back at the crowd on top of the hill and waves his hand in dismissal at them. “Okay,” he says. “Alright. But can we do this in private?” He nods roughly towards the cliffside, on the opposite side of the ship. Din looks him up and down, sizing him up for any weapon he might be hiding, but finds none. 

“Okay,” Din says in finality. 

The crowd disappears back over the hill. Din follows the mayor down the ramp and past the ship. Once they’re fully out of earshot, Leys sighs. 

“Okay,” he says. He rubs his eyes. “You’re right. I haven’t been entirely truthful to you, and I truthfully am sorry. But you did break into our library, which...” He pauses, shaking his head. “...I suppose I should’ve expected. Our people have just been so tense lately, and I didn’t want them to know the truth.”

Leys approaches the cliffside. He admires it for a second, watching the waves crash against the stone monoliths jutting out of the ocean in the distance, before speaking. “Kemp Alrich was an imperial general. He deserted the Empire a few years after the civil war first began.”

Din pauses. “A general?” Din asks. “Why would he defect?”

Leys folds his hands behind his back. “Not sure,” he replies in earnest, turning back around. “People defect for plenty of reasons. It’s likely he saw too much and couldn’t do it anymore. Regardless of the reason, he left the imperial forces quickly. He showed up on our shores begging for rescue. We took him in and gave him food and shelter. No one knew his identity except for a select few.” He eyes Din. “That’s why he wasn’t in the files you saw. We never documented his citizenship for his own safety—and our own, too. If the Empire knew we were harboring a deserter, they would have burned us to the ground.” 

Things slowly begin to click into place. Din’s client must’ve known the man was ex-Empire: that’s why the price on his head was so high. More than likely, the politician’s dirty and collaborating with imperial forces to get rid of anyone who could potentially whistleblow. It just still doesn’t explain how he didn’t know his target had been dead for years. Usually people consult bounty hunters for personal matters. This just doesn’t seem that personal. 

“How’d he die?” Din asks.

“He was a drunkard,” Leys replies simply. “Frequented our bar on most nights. I’m sure he drank to forget. He drank a little bit too much one night and fell cliffside walking home.” He shrugs. “They didn’t realize he was gone until the next morning.” 

Din looks down, towards the rocky shoreline. A long way down and not a painless one. He can’t imagine tumbling down the side of that cliff knowing what’s about to happen to him. Quite a horrific death.

“When was this?” Din asks as he peers down. 

Leys thinks. “A good twelve, thirteen years ago,” he says after a moment. 

His response leaves more questions than answers. Din can understand his client not knowing Alrick had died after a few months, maybe a year or two—not  _ thirteen kriffling years. _ Something isn’t adding up. 

“I don’t get it,” he says. “Why would someone put a bounty on a man that’s been dead for a decade?” 

Leys sighs deeply. Rubbing his temple, he says, “Now that’s a question I can’t answer. I don’t know, Mando. All I can say is that I hope it’s not someone trying to send a message to Kan. We’ve suffered enough. Which… is something I have been meeting to talk to you about.”

Din looks over at Leys. 

“We need your help, Mando,” Leys says plainly. “Our town can’t go on like this.” 

Din’s shoulders tighten. Not again. “I… don’t think I’ll be much help,” he replies quickly. “I’m just passing through, like I said. I have other matters to attend to.” Matters far, far away from a town that needs saving. He was lucky the last few times because he had help from some extraordinarily talented people. He can’t guarantee these people will be okay. 

“Please,” Leys pleads. “We’ve—we’ll pay you the same amount your client is offering you. More, if needed. We’ve been fighting this alone for so long, and we won’t be able to for much longer. You’ve seen this place. It’s empty. We’re tired.” 

“It’s not about the money,” Din says. He looks up at his ship: pale in comparison to the  _ Razor Crest  _ and devoid of the majority of weapons he’d blasted his way out of these types of situations with before. Shaking his head, he breathes out, “I’m not a hero. I’m just a bounty hunter. I’m sorry.” The words feel like motor oil coming out of his mouth, but they’re the truth. He’s never felt like a hero. He’s just always had the right people and the right circumstances around him at the right time. Pretending to be a hero isn’t something he feels like he can do this time. 

“I appreciate your help, Leys,” Din says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do the same. I should really get going, I don’t want to be a burden.” He takes a step back. Leys just watches him, desperate, as he begins to walk back towards the ship.

“Wait,” he calls out. “Did she tell you?” 

Dins stops and turns. “Tell me what?” 

Leys eyes go dark. Weaker, he says, “What the Empire has done to us.” 

Din watches Leys carefully. Jovi had told him the basics: how they arrived, lay claim to the land by the old lommite mines, and commanded Kan to provide them with basic supplies. They toyed with the women and killed some men along the way. But judging by the look on the man’s face, the full story is much worse than he could’ve imagined. Din shakes his head slowly. 

“They blew us up,” Leys replies. He takes a step forward. “It was during the wet season, our least productive time of year. They came to collect supplies during a tough week and became upset when we couldn’t supply enough for their liking. They destroyed two buildings and killed five of our own. Before that, they occasionally stopped by to wreak havoc. Harass visitors, try to seduce our women. Things like that. But that morning changed something. They got angrier. They decided that they wanted more.” 

He closes his eyes for a moment, collecting himself. Breathing out, he continues, “Some time after, my daughter was in the schoolhouse helping to prepare the classroom. The children were playing outside with the school teacher. The troops’ visit was overdue, so we all assumed that we were blessed with another two weeks of peace. We were wrong. They landed and came out in a frenzy. Went and harassed anyone they could find. Stole our liquor. Barged into the schoolhouse. The children were very shaken up, as was the schoolteacher. It’s a miracle she didn’t lose the child. And all Jovi could say was that she wished she could’ve stopped them.” 

Din swallows hard. “Did they lose any of the children?” 

“Yes,” Leys says. “A little girl. Marily. The—” He grits his teeth, “The  _ fucker _ who broke into the schoolhouse was drunk. He ordered for them to all stay still, but she was too young and didn’t understand. She ran across the room to get to the teacher and—” He closes his eyes. “We couldn’t save her.”

Anger simmers in Din’s stomach. No wonder Jovi was so panicked when he found them in the schoolhouse. She thought she was about to lose another child. 

“They’ve done other things since then,” Leys says. “One trooper snuck off into the bar and killed a bartender after he refused to serve him. Another wandered into a shop and raped the shopkeeper’s wife. They’ve done a lot of bad things to our people, and killed needless others.” 

“I understand now,” Din says. 

Leys nods. “Mando, I understand. This isn’t a job that you would ordinarily sign up for: that’s why I’m willing to give you money,” he says. “But we prayed for someone like you to arrive, and then you did.” He takes another step forward. “I don’t know if you believe in anything, but I do, and I don’t think that’s a coincidence.” 

Din’s never been one to believe in divine intervention. Still, he knows how important it is to cling to your religion when it’s the only thing you have. And  _ Stars _ , is it a bad idea, but before he can ruminate over it, he replies, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Leys asks hopefully. “You’ll do it?”

Din breathes out. This is not going to be a game of luck: it’s going to be one of strategy, of smarts, of somehow gaining enough of an upperhand on an enemy who already has a huge advantage. But it’s too late to back down now. He’s given the man hope. 

“Yes,” he replies. “I’ll do it.” 

“Thank you,” Leys says. “Really. We’ll make it worth your time.” 

Din shakes his head. “Payment won’t be necessary.” 

“No, really,” Leys says. “I insist.” 

And Din would feel like a dick accepting money in exchange for potentially saving people’s lives, but he’s not about to argue about it, so he just nods. He’ll negotiate himself out of any compensation afterwards, when the deed is done. 

“We’ll discuss the technicalities later,” Leys says. He looks down at his watch. “I’m late to a meeting with the marketplace vendors. Will you meet with me afterwards? I’d like to inform the town of what our plan is. They… were a little on edge when they saw a Mandalorian had landed here, and I’d like to ease any confusion.” 

“Fair enough,” Din says, as if he hadn’t noticed their lingering stares and pearl-clutching since the beginning. He nods towards the town. “I’ll see you later.” 

Leys sprints back up the hill. Din follows behind loosely and makes his way back into his ship. If he’s going to help these people take back their planet, he’s going to need decent weapons—and people who know how to use them. He assesses his weapons rack carefully. One detonator isn’t enough to blow up an entire mine, even made up of something as flammable as lommite. He has a few, but not enough. And his other weapons are in short supply. If Leys plans on arming his entire town, then he’s out of luck. 

Din lifts his hand to his helmet. This is panning out to be even more complicated than he thought. He just committed to a week and a half of waiting for these troops to arrive while the time his client gave him is ticking away. It’s not like he has a deadline—these types often do, which makes him an exception—but the longer Din takes, the more likely it is his client will send someone else in to do the job. Someone who’s a lot meaner than him. 

Something in the corner of the room beckons to him. A low, quiet whisper he almost can’t decipher. He steps towards it, towards the tower of boxes he’s yet to organize, until he’s standing directly in front of it. The  _ Dark Saber.  _

He’d heard those whisperings before, on the long-haul trip between the planet where he got this new ship and the location of his first bounty. They continued for hours, even while he was sleeping. Relentless. Calling out for him. He’d ignored them then. Now, it feels harder to ignore. The Dark Saber couldn’t destroy the base, not even close. But it could help him do a lot more damage. 

Someone calls out for him. Din turns, startled, and spots Jovi running down the hill towards him. She stops at the bottom of the ramp. Cheeks red from exertion, she breathes out, “Stranger. Hey. I need to talk to you.” 

She’s in a long, pink dress with ribbons tied loosely into her hair. Not the same thing she was wearing when he saw her at dawn this morning. At a lingering look from Din, she flushes a little more and says, “I have tea with Adriam’s family soon. I just—I saw you over here, so I wanted to come and talk to you while I had the chance.” 

Of course. “I’m listening.” 

“I don’t know how much time we have before someone notices we’re alone, so I’m just going to spit it out,” Jovi says. “You deserve to know. I—“ She hesitates and looks back at the town, over the side of the hill. Nervously, she looks up at him. “Can I come up? Just for a second?” 

“Yes?” Din replies, sounding more like a question than an answer. No sooner do the words escape his modulator that she’s rushing up the ramp and pulling Din into the corner of the ship not immediately visible from the open door. He tenses a little at the touch, and she notices, muttering a hushed apology. 

“I… I didn’t shoot you,” Jovi stammers. “Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Din retorts. 

“But,” she says, “I wasn’t honest with you either. I do know how to explain it.  _ Maker _ , it sounds stupid, but...” She trails off and stares behind him. “Wow.” 

Din lifts his arms in a faux-grand gesture of greeting. “Home sweet home,” he muses.

Jovi steps forward, glancing around the cargo hold. It’s nothing special, Din knows that: a fairly standard starship for anyone wanting to travel more than a dozen parsecs without issue. Old, but not nearly as old as the  _ Razor Crest.  _ But this girl... she’s probably never been on a ship before, he realizes. She wouldn’t have really had reason to. 

“It’s just a ship,” Din says. 

Jovi blinks. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, you’re right. Um…” She looks down and clears her throat. “Look, um… I can do things with my mind. Weird… things that don’t make really make a lot of sense.” 

Recognition starts to sink into Din’s chest. “Oh,” he breathes out. He was stupid for not realizing it sooner. He should’ve recognized that feeling the moment he went crashing into the bookshelves that day. That sensation of  _ feeling  _ his body do something, not willing it himself—of an invisible wall forcing him backwards. That energy. That strength. He’d felt the exact thing on Tython just weeks before. Again and again and again while he tried, in vain, to rescue an unresponsive Grogu from the mountain. 

This girl is a jedi. Or—something close, Din thinks. He doesn’t know the word for it, all of this is still new to him, but she can do the things that the kid can. And suddenly, everything starts to click together. 

Jovi nods slowly. Her gaze doesn’t leave the floor, twiddling the ribbons of her dress back and forth between her fingers. There’s a long silence before she says, “I, um, found out when I was little. Really little. I’d, um, take my toys and make them float around the room. I thought it was normal. I’d play with my sister like that all the time. She couldn’t do it, but I thought that maybe she just hadn’t learned how to yet.” She sniffs. “Until my father caught us.” 

“Wait,” Din says. “Your dad knows?” 

When Jovi looks up at him, her eyes are glazed-over. “Yeah,” she replies tightly. “Yeah, and, um, when he found out, he wasn’t happy. He told me I wasn’t allowed to do that. That it was bad. Dangerous. So he made me promise never to do it again, and I haven’t really since.” She tilts her head. “Well… other than the other day.” 

_ Stars _ , Din wishes he had something good to say about that. Something to comfort her and to tell her that her dad is wrong, that she’s an adult now and she can make these decisions for herself, but he can’t. Not after what he’s seen with the kid. Not after spending so long protecting him from people who want to inflict harm on him. Being special puts you in danger. It puts a target on your back that you can never take off. 

The kid was stronger, sure. Plenty stronger, and that made him valuable. But if what she did to Din was any indication of how powerful she is without training, then she could be valuable too. And that’s a threat she doesn’t need looming over her head, not if she doesn’t need it.

Abruptly, Din says, “He’s right, you know.”

Jovi sniffs. “What?” 

Din sighs. “He’s right,” he repeats. “Having that kind of ability puts you in danger. He was trying to protect you.” 

“I was just a kid playing games,” Jovi says, shaking her head. “I wasn’t in danger of anything. I spent years having to hide myself: learn to be a perfect daughter and unlearn a skill I’d had for as long as I could remember. Do you know what it’s like to have to hide an entire part of who you are for your entire life?”

“Yes,” Din deadpans. “And they might have seemed like just games, but they’re a lot more than that.” He thinks back to the kid: how, when he wasn’t under pressure, the most challenging thing he did was beckon a shiny metal ball towards him. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing. What matters is what you could potentially have the power to do. 

Disbelief flashes across Jovi’s face. Shaking her head again, she asks, “No offense, but I don’t think you understand.” 

And he doesn’t—he doesn’t understand everything she’s going through. Everything on this planet is so alien to him; their culture, their way of life, their traditions. He would’ve never had to deal with an arranged marriage on his home planet or Nevarro, much less life as a woman on a planet this traditional. He’s not one to talk about  _ any  _ of that stuff, and truthfully, he wouldn’t. But he can talk about this. 

“Actually,” Din says. “I do.” He lets out a sharp breath. Here it goes. “I knew someone like you. A kid. He could do things with his mind that I didn’t understand.” He shakes his head and smiles a little to himself. “I thought I was crazy at first, but he could really do it. And that put him in a lot of danger.” 

Jovi blinks. “Oh. I’m—I’m sorry,” she quickly mends, gaze softening. “I didn’t know. I just thought…” 

“It’s okay,” Din assures her.

“No, um…” Jovi shakes her head, reaching out to grab his shoulder but stopping herself. Din silently appreciates the gesture. “It isn’t. I’m sorry. It’s easy to forget that you’re a person under that helmet, too.” She pauses. “I think.” 

Din chuckles. “Definitely a person,” he says, which earns a sigh of relief from Jovi. 

“Good,” Jovi says with a little bit of a smile. “But Is he okay? What happened?” 

“He’s okay,” Din replies. “After being in hiding for a really long time, he’s okay, for now. But the road to being safe was long and painful.” Din swallows. “He had to say goodbye to everyone he knew.”

“Oh.” Jovi’s face falls. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Din says, even though he’s not entirely sure if it is—not yet at least. The wound’s too fresh and he can feel himself picking at it, opening up a new cut that’ll probably hurt later. But that’s something to worry about when it happens. “Does anyone else know about this?” 

Jovi shakes her head. “No. Just my dad, and you now, I guess.” Her gaze falls, too, like she’s just now registering it. She just told a man she hardly knows a secret that could cost her life. 

“You can trust me,” Din assures her. She looks back up at him. “I promise.”

Jovi presses her lips together faintly. “How can I trust someone if I don’t even know their name?” she asks. And it’s a joke, but somehow, it kind of stings. He knows she trusts him—if not, she wouldn’t have told him what she just did. But it reminds him just how little people truly understand Mandalorian culture: what’s in a name, why it’s so important. Why he can’t just give it out to anyone. 

She looks back down towards the ramp. After a moment of silence, she sighs and says, “Well, I should probably get back to town before they notice I’m gone. I don’t want anyone thinking I’ve run away with the bounty hunter.” She looks up at him. “But thanks. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone like this in a while. You’re pretty alright, stranger.” 

Din coughs. “I’ll be here for a little longer.” 

Something in Jovi’s eyes twinkles. “Yeah,” she says. A small smile spreads across her face. “I’ll see you later.” She gives him a short wave of goodbye and starts her way back towards the town. He watches her as she disappears back over the hill. 

✫彡

Sometime after lunch, Leys gathers the townspeople at the front steps of city hall. They file in slowly, chattering nervously amongst each other. When they ask questions, Leys just shakes his head and tells them that all will be answered once everyone is here. That doesn’t do much to calm their nerves: they still stare up at him and Din, wide-eyed, while Din has to pretend he doesn’t notice they’re still afraid of him. 

Eventually, once the majority of town looks like it’s arrived, Leys begins to speak. “I know that you’re all wondering why I brought you here,” he says. “And I apologize for the sudden request. But I have news that concerns us all.” Hushed whispers overtake the group. 

“As you all know,” Leys says, “Things have gotten tough lately. The soldiers are increasing their demands. We are inching closer and closer to complete occupation.” He frowns. “We can survive like this for a while, economically. Our funds will last us plenty of time, even with them taking plenty away from us. But our people will not.” 

“Now…” Leys says, pacing the steps. “We’ve lost a lot of people already. I know that. But I won’t stand and watch as we lose any more.” He breathes out. “Not one more.” 

Below, the townspeople murmur their agreement. Din scans the crowd, and it’s then that he realized how tired everyone looks. This is not the Kan he’d visited so many times: proud, wealthy, and carefree. This is a Kan close to defeat. 

“Mando, here,” Leys says, gesturing at Din, “He’s going to help us do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.” He points off in the distance, beyond the mountains and in the direction of the imperial base. “We’re going to destroy that base.” 

A collective gasp rings out. The townspeople fall into another round of hushed whispers, growing louder by the moment. 

Din looks among the townspeople: a rag-tag group of children and adults hardened by living their entire lives through imperial occupation. Hardly what he would consider army material, and definitely not the group he’d put together to take down an entire imperial base. But their best options were taken a long time ago. 

These people, they’re not natural born fighters. They had no real need to be. During the last imperial occupation, when the whole galaxy was occupied, they were okay—for the most part. They still had their culture, and their wealth, and their comfortable place on a planet free of the war and poverty imperial control tended to bring along. They were lucky the first time. They weren’t so lucky this time. 

This imperial faction is different. They moved in on Jiloh in silence because they knew the planet would fall if they had no one to protect them. And they didn’t. Because no one had ever had to. 

“A large group would get us too much attention,” Din finally announces. “This isn’t an ambush. If we ambushed them, we’d be shot down before we even reach the front gates. We need a team agile enough to get in, blow up the mine, and get out before we’re seen. Shoot our way out if we need to.” 

“How do we decide who goes?” a woman asks, clutching her child against her. Her husband stands beside her, leaning back on his good leg. One of the men injured during the explosion. His wife’s eyes begin to well up with tears. “What if they don’t make it back?” 

The townspeople exchange worried looks. This is different from the attacks they’ve survived before. This is offense, not defense. This is infiltrating an enemy base with no guarantee they’ll come back to tell the tale. 

Leys ascends the front steps to join Din. He surveys his people for a moment before his gaze lands on the woman and softens. Shaking his head, he says, “Please don’t worry, Nira. We’ve already spoken, and we think Nicholas should stay here, to protect you and your family.” 

The woman’s shoulders sag in relief. She reaches out for her husband, but he pulls away. He hobbles forward on his good leg. 

“Leys,” he begins. “I understand that you want to protect us, but—” 

“No buts,” Leys interrupts. He shakes his head once more. “Nicholas, I know you’re a fighter.” He looks up to address the rest of the group. “I know you all are. One way or another, you’ve all been shaped into the fighters you are today. It’s not what we’re supposed to be, but it’s what we are, and it’s a burden that’s been placed on so many of us unfairly.” He lets out a breath. “Which is why we discussed this beforehand, and we decided that four of us should go to the base. Me, Gunmar, Adriam, and the Mandalorian.” He nods up at Din. “That leaves the rest of you to protect our town should something go wrong.” 

The crowd breaks into whispers. It’s a ruse and they know it: Adriam is the only young man left, and Leys and his father are two of the few men left that aren’t injured or elderly. There’s no time to train, and it’s not like it would make much of a difference anyway. Anyone else who went with them could very well be walking into their own death.

Several of the men vocalize their objection, but Leys shoots them down with the same explanation—that it’s what he and the Mandalorian discussed, and it ensures that good people are still left behind to take care of the town. They’re not convinced, of course they aren’t, so Leys has to speak over the shouts as he tries to address the plan. He’s unsuccessful.

“Hey,” Din barks over the noise. The crowd freezes, turning to look at him. “Listen to him.” 

Leys sighs. His people’s fear of the Mandalorian was finally put to good use. “Alright, thank you. We’re going to need everyone to cooperate for the first part of this plan, so I’m relying on all of you to please listen up,” he asks. “In less than twelve days, the troops are going to fly in and collect their supplies. This is our chance to get into the base undetected. We’ll let them land, start to wheel out the rations like usual, and then attack. If all goes well, we’ll be able to strip them of their weapons, board the transporter, and take their place without anyone realizing they’re missing. But all of this hinges on doing this quickly and efficiently—and the troops not calling for reinforcements. We need to isolate them and make sure they don’t send out any kind of emergency signal.

“Then…” Leys continues, gesturing at Din and himself. “The Mandalorian, myself, Gunmar, and Adriam will take their transporter straight back to the base, where we’ll locate the mine and any points of insecurity.” His eyes scan the crowd for the two others. When he locks eyes with them, they nod back in acknowledgement. “Lommite is combustible. We know this. Gunmar is also familiar with the layout of the old mine, which should help us get in and out quickly. Ideally, we’ll destroy the base without anyone noticing we’re out of place. But on the off chance that things don’t go as planned…” He swallows. “I want you to denounce any notion of what happened. Hide any evidence that anything happened here. None of you need to pay for the decision that us four have made.” 

In the crowd, a man begins to object, but Leys cuts him short. “J’Lan,” he interrupts. “As your mayor, it’s my job to keep all of you safe.” He clears his throat. “It’s something I haven’t… I haven’t done well enough of late. So please, let me do my job.” 

A silence falls over the people. “Any questions?” 

No one else objects, thankfully, but there’s a finality hanging in the air that no one can deny. Leys is talking like a man that’s accepting his death before it happens. Din knows that type of man well. 

A few people stick around to ask questions. Most, though, stop to express their gratitude to them both. Din just deflects it, passing the thanks on to their mayor. He’s not the one that decided to do any of this. He’s just the hired blaster that happened to stop by. 

Once the last person leaves the square, Leys turns and rests against the front wall of the library. He wipes his forehead with his arm and lets out a low, shaky breath. “Thank you,” he says to Din. “I’m sorry that I didn’t ask for your help sooner, but I’m really grateful that you’re still here. We all are.” 

“No need to thank me,” Din says. Deflecting again.

Leys laughs. Shaking his head, he says, “Mandalorians. You can accept a compliment, Mando. You’re about to save our town.” He straightens up and slaps a hand onto Din’s shoulder. “In fact, once all of this is over… I’ll buy you a drink.” He laughs. “That you can have in private, of course.”

“Hey,” shouts a voice in the square. Jovi. Her shoes clack against the cobblestone, hard, as she approaches. She stops at the bottom of the steps, her hard gaze a stark contrast to the delicate dress she’s still wearing. “You told me I could come.” 

“Jovi!” Leys greets. “What are you talking about, sweetheart?” 

“The plan,” she says. “I just heard it from Adriam. Why aren’t you letting me come with you?” 

Leys glances over at Din. “ _ Girls _ ,” he mouths at him, like Din will somehow understand what that means. Then, shaking his head, he says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“What?” she asks, faltering. “We—we just talked about it, dad. At lunchtime.” She takes a step forward. “You said I was ready to protect our people.” 

“Oh,” Leys says. He chuckles a little. “Sweetheart, I never said that you were coming. I said that you’d be protecting our people by staying here. You’d be a tremendous help. You always are.” 

Jovi’s mouth falls agape. Collecting the skirt of her dress in her hands, she carries herself up the stairs. “We talked about this,” she says as she approaches. Her voice is calm, but tight, like she’s trying to keep it together. Din wonders if she’s ever even yelled at her father before. 

“We talked about nothing,” Leys says. Firmly, he says, “Jovi, you’re going to stay here and you are going to do as I say. This is for your own good.”

“Excuse me?” Jovi scoffs. 

“Yes, excuse you,” Leys barks back. “Mind your manners, young lady. We are in front of a guest.” 

Jovi’s eyes snap up to meet Din’s, who would rather be anywhere but here. “He’s a bounty hunter, dad,” she snaps. She waves her hand in dismissal. “He’s seen plenty worse.”

“I don’t know where this attitude is coming from, Jovi,” Leys says, stepping forward, “but you are going to go back home right now, or we’re going to have a problem.” 

His tone is firm. If what Jovi told Din is any indication of how he handles discipline, he wouldn’t blame her if she gave in. But Jovi doesn’t budge. Beside the two of them, she looks so small, but Din has learned not to judge by size. Her eyes blaze with anger—red-hot amber against such a pale face. The same anger he’d heard in her voice earlier. The same hurt he pretended he didn’t hear, too. 

“No,” she says in finality. She takes another step forward until she and her father are face-to-face. Her hand trembles against her side. Din notices, and when she glances over for a second, she catches his eye. 

“No?” Leys asks. 

“No,” she repeats. She looks away from Din, back to her father, gaze hardening once again. “You’ve always sheltered me. You’ve always wanted me to be the perfect daughter, the perfect future wife. And I’ve tried to be that for so long. I’ve accepted your pairing. I’ve tended to the children, who I love. I’ve been complacent and I’ve been quiet.” She swallows. “But I’m just not what you want me to be. I’m not Siraya, and I’m not mom. You know I know how to fight. So let me fight.” 

Leys’ gaze visibly softens as she speaks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies. “I’ve given you everything. You’re not a fighter, you’re my daughter.” He takes her face into his hands and cups it gently. “I love you. Let me protect you.” 

Tears well up in Jovi’s eyes. “You really want to hide me away that badly? After everything?” Then, softer, “I know I’m all you have left, dad. But you can’t hide me forever.” 

A wave of emotions flash across Leys’ face. For a moment, Din thinks that he’s going to say no; that he’s going to object, to lash out at her, to give some other kind of misogynistic excuse as to why his daughter can’t go. But instead, the only thing he sees on his face is sadness. The man rubs his daughter’s cheek gently, shaking his head.

“Leys,” Din finally says quietly. They both look over at him. “She should come.” 

Leys looks from Din back to Jovi. Weakly, he says, “But—”

“If I know what you’re talking about,” Din interrupts, “then she’s more than capable of coming along.” He nods towards Jovi. “I trust her. And I want her there. She can do it.” 

Leys’ lips part in recognition. He takes a step back. “Did… you?” He can’t even finish the sentence. Din doesn’t blame him. But it’s not his secret to tell. It’s not anyone’s but hers. 

“Yes,” Din says. He nods towards Jovi. “I saw. Your secret is safe with me.”

Jovi blinks up at him gratefully. Leys stays silent for a while. He looks down at Jovi, whose eyes are still glassy, and rubs her cheek. Gently, he asks, “Do you really want to go out there?” 

Jovi sniffs. Without hesitation, she says, “Yes. More than anything.” She holds her hand over her father’s. “I want them to pay.” 

Leys doesn’t look certain at all, but he doesn’t object. He just presses his daughter to his chest and sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. Din recognizes that look. He turns away. 

“Okay,” Leys says after a moment. When Din looks again, he’s wiping his eyes and looking up at him. “Well, if she’s going to be out there… can you teach her how to shoot?” 

Din’s mind flashes back to the day he arrived here: how Jovi’s hands were so shaky when she was holding the blaster that he thought she’d get everyone else in there killed. She was clueless—completely unaware of any blaster etiquette—but that can be fixed. They need all of the shooters they can get. 

“Gladly,” he says. 


	5. The Tin Can Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din teaches the kids how to shoot. An early arrival catches everyone by surprise.

As it turns out, neither of the young people know how to shoot a blaster. Gunmar, the son of a retired imperial commander, apparently refused to let his son learn how to shoot as a child on the basis that if he knew how to shoot, he could be used as an asset by the Empire. Din bites his tongue when he explains that. Most of the troopers he’s come across haven’t exactly been proficient shooters.

So he takes both Adriam and Jovi down the hill, further into a valley south of the town. There, the land plateaus enough to set up a makeshift shooting range. He and Adriam set a table down some feet away and litter it with old pottery as targets. It’s certainly not the shooting range he’d learned to shoot at as a kid on Mandalore, but it’ll do. 

“I won’t have time to make you gunslingers by next week,” Din says. “But hopefully you’ll learn enough to get by.” He lifts a blaster out of his back holster. “Now, there are two important things you need to know before you even hold a blaster.” 

He takes the blaster in his hands and discreetly flips a switch on the side. He hands it to Adriam. “Try and shoot this.” 

Adriam blinks at him. “Really?”

Din nods. Hesitantly, the kid takes the blaster from his hands. He fumbles with it for a few seconds before finding the trigger. Shutting one eye, he points the blaster at one of the pots and squeezes the trigger. Nothing. Furrowing his brow, he puts the blaster down and continues to fumble for a few more seconds. Still nothing. Confused, he hands the blaster back to Din. “It’s not working.” 

Din places it back in his hands. “Try again.” 

Adriam stares down at the blaster before attempting to fumble with it again. The safety on a blaster like this one isn’t particularly obvious. It’s a blaster he got from a scavenger during his bounty hunting days, a military-grade one from the Republic forces. But it’s still there: a little red switch that shuts the blaster off immediately when engaged.

Adriam aims the blaster towards the targets and tries in vain, again, to shoot. “I don’t understand,” he says as he lowers the blaster again. “Is there a certain way I have to pull the trigger?”

Din cocks a brow. He looks over at Jovi, whose eyes are glued to the blaster in Adriam’s hands. She feels his gaze on her and blinks. 

“Um,” she says, taking a step towards Adriam. She gently lifts the blaster out of his hands. Looking up at Din, she says, “There’s something you have to switch off… right?” When Din nods in confirmation, she flips the blaster over and observes it. After a moment, she switches off the safety and looks back up at Din again. 

“That’s it,” he says. He takes the blaster from her and points it at the ground, away from them both. “This is live now. Don’t point a live weapon at anything you don’t intend on shooting.” 

Adriam nudges Jovi with his shoulder. “Nice job,” he says. “Looks like you’ll be protecting me, then.” 

“If she can shoot,” Din interjects. He nods towards him. “You want to try?” 

It’s Adriam’s turn to blink. “Uh, yeah,” he says, stepping forward. Eager. Din slides the blaster into his hands, flipping the safety back on. He gestures for him to take a few more steps forward. 

“You want to be in the right stance when you shoot,” Din explains. “Both feet on the ground. You don’t want the recoil to knock you backwards. Falling will leave you vulnerable.”

The kid obliges, stepping into position with his right foot just slightly behind his left. He points the blaster forward and looks back at Din for further instruction. 

“Pretty good,” Din says. “Do you think you could get knocked over like this?” When Adriam shakes his head, he nods. “Good. Now, you want to put both hands on the blaster. You shouldn’t shoot with one hand if you don’t know what you’re doing. You want your non-dominant hand to be gripping the handle and your dominant hand to be higher up to help absorb any recoil. But keep your trigger finger against the side of the barrel until you’re ready to shoot.” 

Adriam fumbles for a few seconds before positioning his hands. A quick learner, Din notes. Not quite a lost cause. Knuckles a little white, sure, but anyone’s would be their first time holding a blaster. “Don’t squeeze so tightly,” Din notes after a moment. “Relax your hands.” The kid mumbles an apology and adjusts his grip. 

“Now you want to aim,” Din instructs. “There’s a sight tip at the end of the blaster. Can you see through it okay?” 

“Yeah,” Adriam says. 

“Good.” Din nods towards the targets further down the valley. “You want to make sure the middle of that tip is aligned with the middle of your target. Then, when you’re ready, you’ll shoot. Make sure you keep your grip consistent and don’t finish pointing until a few seconds after you’ve finished shooting.” After a moment, he says, “When you’re ready to shoot, flip the safety and pull the trigger.” 

Din takes a step back and gestures for him to go—and he does after a second, hitting the edge of one of the pots towards the back of the row. It explodes on impact. The kid heaves a sigh of relief and looks back at Jovi, who offers him a smile in response.

“I hit it,” he says, sounding proud. 

“You did,” Din says. 

So the kid goes a few more rounds, hitting most of his intended targets in the process. Pottery is nothing compared to a live, moving target, Din knows that, but it’s definitely a start. One less person to worry about completely not knowing what they’re doing. If they’re lucky, maybe they’ll find a live target to focus on later—maybe one of the few meadow-grazing species that live on this side of the mountains. 

After a few minutes of shooting practice, Adriam lowers the gun, breathing a little heavily. “How was that?” 

“Not bad,” Din says. He reaches out for the blaster and switches the safety back on, something that Adriam forgot. He’ll have to remind him the next time he practices. Nodding towards Jovi, who’s been awfully quiet the past few minutes, Din asks, “You ready to try?” 

The look on her face tells him she’s not entirely too convinced. It’s a stark contrast to the fiery eagerness from earlier today, in front of her father. She looks up at him with wary eyes. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

She steps forward and takes the blaster from his hand. Tentatively, she walks forward, planting her feet in the grass. Not the worst stance Din’s seen, but it’s not a particularly sturdy one. “Do you think that’s sturdy enough?” 

Jovi glances down at her feet and reluctantly shakes her head. “Um, no,” she says, shifting her feet so her dominant foot is slightly behind the other one—left one, he notes. Not her right. She looks up. “That okay?” 

He nods in approval. “Now adjust your grip. Do you remember what I told him?” 

Jovi stares down at the blaster for a moment. Weakly, she shakes her head. “No,” she admits. “Can you—?” 

Din steps towards her, ready to adjust her grip, before stopping himself. Clearing his throat, he says, “Right hand gripping the handle. Left hand higher up. Keep your trigger finger along the side of the barrel.” Jovi nods and goes to move her hands to the correct spots. She’s not particularly skilled, but her movements are deliberate, a lot less fumbling than Adriam’s.

“Is that okay?” she asks after a moment. 

“Yeah,” Din replies. “Now aim.”

Her hands are trembling, but she aligns her blaster quickly. Even from off to the side, Din can tell she’s zeroed in. Looking back at him expectantly, she asks, “Is—is this good?”

“Stop asking me if you’re doing good enough,” Din remarks. He knows it’s just a force of habit; remnants of always trying to be a _good enough daughter_. But you don’t need constant approval to be able to shoot. You just need to be able to aim and fire. He nods towards the targets. “Go for it. You got this.” 

Behind them, Adriam calls out a few other words of encouragement. She glances back briefly, shoulders tight, before closing her eyes. 

“Breathe,” Din says quietly. “Don’t doubt yourself.”

She keeps her eyes closed for a second. Then after a moment, she opens them again, relaxing her shoulders. “Okay.” Her hand slides towards the safety. She lets out a low breath and fires. The sound of clay exploding rings out through the valley. She keeps her blaster raised for a moment before flicking the safety back off and looking back at the two men. 

Adriam grins at her. “Good job, Jovi,” he says. 

“Told you,” Din says. “Don’t doubt yourself.”

“Okay,” she breathes out. “Thanks.” 

During the next rounds, she’s still tense, he can see it in her shoulders, but she’s not a bad shot. Unlike the other morning, her hands aren’t shaking to the point of inaccuracy—and hopefully, when the time comes for her to shoot for real, if necessary, they won’t be then, either. Still, the more she shoots, the more confidence Din can tell she earns. And that’s a good thing to see. 

They spend the rest of the day shooting until the sun goes down. They practice with different targets: the pottery up close, far away, and then, when the sun starts to set, they aim at the bats flocking towards the caverns in the distance. Adriam hits one, but Jovi doesn’t—and after the last time she “misses,” Din starts to realize it’s probably intentional. He doesn’t say anything.

“Alright,” Din says. “I think that’s enough for today. Let’s get you kids home.” He gestures for Adriam to help him carry the table back and they do so, following Jovi back up the hill. Up ahead, the town’s illuminated with light and the sound of people talking can be heard. Dinner time. 

Adriam slows as they approach. Din glances over at him, thinking he’s struggling with the table, but he doesn’t seem to be very fatigued. He shouldn’t be: he’s a broad kid with a good one or two inches on him. 

“Hey, Mando?” the kid asks, voice low. “You were at the ceremony, right?” 

“What part?” Din retorts, even though he already knows what part he’s referencing. 

Adriam slows again and waits for Jovi to get out of earshot. A smile creeps across his face. “The announcement,” he replies. “You know, when our parents told the town about us. Were you there?”

Din shifts his hands under the table. “Yeah, I was there.” Adriam grins in response. They carry the table over the apex of the hill and Din can smell the dinner at the inn even through his helmet. His stomach grumbles, and it hits him that he hasn’t eaten today. 

A dreamy look spreads across Adriam’s face. “Man. What a night. She’s so beautiful. I mean, look at her. Isn’t she?” 

A weird thing to ask a random man of the woman he’s going to marry, but Din still instinctively glances forward. Through the lamplight, he can see Jovi ahead of them, loose waves bouncing on her shoulders. Yeah, she’s pretty—Din recognized it the moment he first saw her. But it’s not exactly a feature he knows how to talk about very well. “Sure,” he replies drily. 

He looks over at Adriam, whose eyes are still trained squarely on her. Lowly, he says, “ _Fuck_ , I can’t wait to see what’s under that—”

“Hey,” Jovi calls from ahead of them, saving Din from hearing a sentence he’s glad she interrupted. She stops at the edge of town. “Dad said we can drop the table off at the marketplace.” 

They follow her down the cobblestone path towards the marketplace, where a few vendors are packing up their stalls for the day. They offer words of greeting and Din nods in reply. He and Adriam place the table down in an empty space by the back corner and walk back out to meet Jovi. 

“Okay,” she says, clasping her hands together and looking up at Din. “Well, thank you for that lesson. Opal’s making you a special meal back at the inn as a thank-you.” 

“Thanks,” Din says. Inside the suit, his stomach grumbles again. “If you guys want, I’ll take you out again tomorrow.” 

Jovi smiles a little. “Thanks, Mando.” Adjusting the sleeves of her dress, she says, “Alright. Well, I’m going to go have supper with my dad. You two have a good night, okay?” 

“Good night,” Din and Adriam say in unison. She nods and begins to walk back home. Din glances over at the kid and he’s entranced again. 

“Uh, wait,” Adriam says, shaking himself out of his trance. He speeds up to catch up with her. “Let me walk you home.”

Jovi gives him a weird look. “It’s okay,” she says. She glances back at Din. “Your mom wants you to help with supper, remember?” 

Adriam blinks. “Oh. Right. Well, um, goodnight, Jovi.” She offers a small _goodnight_ in reply and walks off once again, this time without him following. His shoulders sag in response. 

Din watches him in silence, finding it hard not to be a _little_ bit satisfied—but it’s not his place. It’s just that it’s kind of funny, watching the kid flounder like that. He’s very clearly gotten everything he’s wanted in life. He’s not used to rejection. 

Dejected, Adriam walks back to Din. He scratches his head. “Let’s walk back to the inn, I guess,” he says, gesturing for him to follow. “My mother’s probably cooking roasted Qiquail for supper.” 

And it turns out that it is roasted qiquail, as well as a half-dozen grains and vegetables Din hasn’t had in years or has never even had at all. Din savors his meal, helmet sitting at attention beside him, as he stares out the window. He could get used to this: warm, delicious meals and a view of the ocean. A bed with a real mattress and a refresher down the hall complete with a real shower—he doesn’t use it, sure, but it’s there. 

Three days. He’s been here for three days already, and he still has eleven days left. Bounty hunting for so long has gotten him used to not staying for long in one place, and jetting around from planet to planet with Grogu for the past several months didn’t help, either. Which is why it feels so odd to still be here, like he should already be parsecs away in search of a new bounty.

Staying in one place is tough. It means having to stay on your toes, because people notice when you’re there for too long. It means— _Stars_ forbid, it means getting attached to people and places and things. Din doesn’t like that. He’s always known that these things are temporary, but the longer he spends time somewhere, the more those lines blur. And he can’t let that happen here. Tonight, when he goes to bed, he slips his helmet back on and drags the sheets onto the floor. 

✫彡

Din wakes up to the sound of birds outside. It’s a sound he doesn’t really hear often, so when he processes it, he sits up in his makeshift bed and looks around. The balcony door is still open—that’s why he can hear them so clearly. Yawning, he stretches his limbs out, a familiar soreness creeping through his body from sleeping on the floor, and goes to stand up. 

It’s a pretty day, the kind of pretty he’s used to from his times visiting Kan. Soft clouds dot the blue sky and birds fly overhead, circling the bay. The sun is hanging higher in the sky, having risen some time ago, and Din realizes he somehow slept in. 

He adjusts his armor. He showered yesterday, but it wouldn’t hurt to shower again today: especially after all that time he spent in the sun teaching the kids how to shoot yesterday. So he lugs himself out of his room, past Opal, who greets him, and makes his way over to his ship. There are mechanics working on the landing wheels when he arrives. 

“Good morning,” he greets. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” one of them replies. She beams up at him. “It’s the least we could do.” 

Din opens the cargo door and steps inside his ship. It’s exactly the way he left it yesterday, but he still gives it the once-over just in case. Nothing seems to be out of place, so he just slides the door back closed and goes to take a shower. 

He takes a long one this time, a little less preoccupied with how long he’s taking. The water’s warm and fresh, not recycled—the mechanics must’ve pumped it full of clean water. He doesn’t remember the last time he took a hot shower with water that wasn’t recycled. It’s nice. Really nice, actually, which is why for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t rush himself out of the shower. He stands under the water for what feels like hours, eyes closed.

His memory flashes back to the first time he gave the little one a bath. He doesn’t normally take hot baths, it’s a luxury he’d rather save for emergencies, but this time was an exception: Grogu was cold, shivering in the cargo cold, and Din didn’t know how he’d handle that—was he cold-blooded? Warm-blooded? He needed to warm up, and fast. So he took the little one to the refresher and ran the water warm. 

The shower in the _Razor Crest_ was way smaller than this one—the entire refresher in his old ship, in fact, probably would’ve fit in the shower he’s in now. He lowered the water pressure to a drizzle and placed Grogu on the outer ledge, letting water fall gently over him. But he wasn’t having it. Eyes welling up with tears, he began to wail and gesture wildly for Din to pick him up. Din rushed to get him, worried the water was hurting him, but when he picked the little sopping wet creature up, his wailing stopped. He just looked up at him, eyes wide, before cooing and gesturing towards the water. 

He tentatively placed the kid back in, but just as quickly, he started wailing again. So Din just pressed him up against his armored chest and thought. He was still cold—and wet, really wet now—so he couldn’t just do nothing. An idea came to him. 

He ran the water a little bit warmer and began pulling his armor off. He left his underclothes on, of course—he didn’t want to traumatize the poor little guy—and slipped into the shower, taking Grogu with him. 

This time, the kid didn’t protest. He looked up at Din with big eyes and pressed his little body against his chest until the shivering stopped. And Din stood there, clothes soaked, holding Grogu against him until he couldn’t anymore. 

It’s just a memory. The kid’s somewhere probably millions of lightyears away right now. But by the time Din snaps out of it, his fingers are wrinkled from being under the showerhead for so long and the refresher has filled up with steam. He switches the shower off and reaches for a towel, pressing it against his face. The kid’s not here. And he has a whole different group of kids to save now. 

He wraps the towel around his waist and opens the door to the refresher. Steam spills out into the rest of the ship, delicate tendrils against hard grey. He gets dressed quickly, the cold air in the room nipping at his exposed skin, and goes to check on the cockpit with his helmet nestled between his arm and side. 

Everything looks good. The ship’s ready for him to fly off in a little over a week, hopefully victorious, hopefully in search of a new bounty. Maybe he’ll ask the mechanics to top off his water supply before he leaves. Having a hot shower was nice. Patting the control panel, he turns around and goes to slip his helmet on.

A sound outside of the ship pauses him in his tracks. At first, he thinks it’s just the sound of the kids playing outside. They do that sometimes, crowd his ship and look at it in amazement when he’s visiting. But what he hears again definitely isn’t the sound of children playing. He quickly slides the helmet back on, heading into the cargo hold. There, he clips in everything: his grappling hook, his blaster, whatever else he might need. He presses the button to lower the ramp and rushes outside. 

The mechanics are nowhere to be found. In town, there’s a commotion, and— _dank farrik,_ he could recognize that sound anywhere. He unholsters his blaster and runs in the direction of the sound. 

An imperial transporter is overhead. The townspeople panic, some fleeing towards the homesteads while others frantically begin to lock up their businesses. Parents clutch their children up and run. Din sprints past them, blaster in hand, towards the entrance of town. Leys arrives at the same time. 

“Fuck,” Leys gasps out, breathless. “They got here early.” 

“What do we do?” Din asks. 

Leys puts his hand on Din’s shoulder to steady himself. He glances down at the blaster in Din’s hand and shoves it away. “Put that away before they kill us all,” he says. Din obliges, slipping the blaster back into its hidden position underneath his cloak. 

“Nothing’s changed,” Leys says, looking over at Din. He straightens himself out. “You remember the plan?” Din nods. “Then it’s settled. Royce?” A man materializes by his side, expectant. He looks over at him. “Bring the supplies out.” 

The transporter hovers for a moment before slowly making its descent. It lands on the apex of the hill, just feet from the rubble of the destroyed buildings. It sits there a moment, inactive, before hissing to life, the ramp slowly sliding open. 

A man appears at the top of the ramp, weapon by his side. 

“People of Kan!” he calls out. “What a lovely greeting party. If I’d known, I would’ve brought flowers.” 

“You’re early,” Leys says. 

The man cocks his head. He clatters down the ramp swinging his blaster by his side. A lieutenant, Din realizes, as indicated by the patch on his uniform. Not much of a commanding officer, and definitely not any of the men Leys had described. “Hmm,” he says. “Guess I am. Now, where are my gifts?” 

“They’re on the way,” Leys calls back. He takes a step forward. “Where’s your friend? The one who usually comes to collect these things?” 

The lieutenant grins. Shaking his head, he says, “You know, I heard about how welcoming your town was, and I thought… I’d like to come check this place out for myself. With a few friends, of course.” He nods towards the transporter, where several troopers and other low-ranking officers await. 

“Does your superior officer know about this?” Leys asks. 

Instead of replying, the man steps towards them. He eyes Din up and down as he approaches. Din swallows, hand ghosting the blaster under his cloak. He stops in front of him, inches away, and raises his eyebrows. 

“I heard rumors that a Mandalorian had landed here,” he says. “I had to come see for myself.” He looks him up and down again, this time with a sneer spread across his face. “Didn’t expect you to be a glorified tin can, though.” 

Din’s hand sneaks ever closer to his blaster. He has little patience for creeps like these: full of entitlement, devoid of any real talent. He could just slip his blaster out of its holster and—

“Enough,” Leys snaps. The men with the supplies roll up beside them, carts full of supplies. He nods roughly towards them. “Take what you want and leave.” 

Din drops his hand. As the man moves aside to inspect the supplies, Leys gives Din a look. They nod at each other. The plan is working. A week in advance, but working. 

“Hmm,” the lieutenant says. He combs through the open boxes: food, water, toiletries; weeks of high-quality rations that make their military rations pale in comparison. Din and Leys look at each other, ready to set their plan in action, when the young man abruptly stands back up. “And the girls?” 

“The girls,” the lieutenant repeats after a moment of silence. He looks around at the crowd of men. “Where are all of the girls?” 

The sound of the waves crashing hundreds of feet away permeate the suddenly-silent crowd. The lieutenant lets out a sigh of frustration. “Are you deaf?” he asks Leys, “Or—oh…” A sudden grin breaks across his face. “I know you. How could I not? _Mayor Harrik.”_ He pokes him in the chest. “What a man. She looks just like you, you know.” 

Leys narrows his eyes. “Pardon me?” 

“You heard me,” the lieutenant says. “I know your daughter. What a fucking dime. You know she’s a dime, don’t you?” He takes a step towards Leys, swinging his blaster. “You’re angry, but you know how it works. Men like you—” He nods at Leys, “—You supply the daughters. And men like us—” He gestures at himself, “—We accept them with open arms. Really. Because girls like your daughter… Well.” He grins again, a big, devilish grin with too-white teeth. “The more sheltered, the better the pussy.” 

He turns to his brothers-in-arms and together, they break out into laughter like it’s all one big inside joke. Leys sucks his teeth, jaw clenched, and gives Din the nodding signal. 

“With pleasure,” Din mutters under his breath, unholstering his blaster and firing with one solid movement. The lieutenant sinks to his knees immediately, a smoldering hole where his stomach used to be. He spits out obscenities through mouthfuls of black blood, but Din pays him little heed, kicking him face-first into the grass. The gargles of blood will finish the job. 

Then, fire. Blasters firing from everywhere, from the transporter to the rooftops. The townspeople aren’t exactly perfect shots, but they’re better than a handful of rookie troopers, and they have them outnumbered. Before he can attempt to get rid of them all himself, the lieutenant’s leisure buddies are dead—all except another particularly scrawny low-ranking officer cowering in the transporter. The townspeople stop firing. 

Gunmar steps alongside Din and Leys. “Do you think he’s calling for reinforcements?” he asks. 

Din shakes his head. “No. They came here alone,” he says. Then, in one fluid movement, he lifts his blaster and shoots. The officer crumbles forward. 

“Okay.” Leys lets out a breath. He claps his hands together. “Everyone alright? No one’s shot?” He whirls around, looking for confirmation from everyone—miraculously, no one seems to be harmed. “Good. Alright, guys, let’s start getting these uniforms off.” 

All around them, the town whirs back to life. The men get to work stripping the uniforms off the dead soldiers’ bodies. Most of them are salvageable—they’ll work for getting into the base relatively undetected. The lieutenant, though, sits in an inelegant heap at their feet, his uniform a bit too burnt to be functional. 

“I’ll arrange a soldier’s burial for the men,” Gunmar says. He eyes the lieutenant’s corpse then gives it a hard kick. If there’s an afterlife, the kid felt the kick all the way there. “ _He’ll_ be tossed out to sea.” 

“Good plan,” Leys says. “Thank you, Gunmar.” 

Leys turns to Din. Whistling, he says, “Well, that wasn’t exactly the way we planned on this happening, but it worked out. We’ll just have to work a little faster than expected.” 

“Where’d they get the blasters?” Din asks. 

Leys claps a hand on Din’s shoulder. “I… may have had a few stocked in my house for emergencies,” he admits. “We were having a meeting when we heard the engine in the distance. Didn’t sound like a tourist. We stocked up and rushed up to town.” 

Din heaves a sigh of relief. Here he was thinking he’d have to arm the entire town with his limited range of weaponry. 

“Dad?” a voice calls behind them. 

“Jovi,” Leys says, sighing in relief. He grabs her by the face and plants a kiss on her forehead. Stroking her face, he asks, “Are you alright? Are the kids alright?” 

“We’re fine,” she says, sounding a little shaken up. “Why did they come early?” 

“We… don’t know,” Leys says. “But we need to go early. Before anyone realizes they’re missing.” 

“Wait—we’re leaving now?” Her eyes go wide. “I—I’m not… I just barely shot a blaster for the first time yesterday, I can’t—” 

“You’re ready,” Din interjects. They both turn to look at him. “Or as ready as you can be right now.” Saying she’s _ready_ would be a lie—because she’s not. She’s not a soldier. But neither of them are. They’re as ready as they can possibly be given the circumstances. 

Leys turns back to Jovi. “You can stay if you want to,” he tells her, rubbing her cheek. A last-ditch attempt to make her stay. “I’m sure there’s someone here who would be more than willing to—”

“No,” Jovi interrupts, shaking her head. She nods towards Din. “He said I’m ready. So…” She swallows visibly. “I’ll be ready.” 

“Okay,” Leys says. “Okay, sweetheart, I believe you. I just—” He pulls her towards him, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses his forehead against hers. He lets out a dejected sigh. “Alright. I believe you.” 

“Thank you, dad,” Jovi whispers. 

They stay like that for a second, father embracing daughter. A sight that makes Din yearn for something, for the kid he _almost_ could call his. But he blinks it away. Now isn’t the time to get nostalgic. So instead, he focuses on the ground and how the dirt gives way to tiny blades of grass. 

Finally, they pull away, and Din looks back up again. 

“Alright,” Leys says, straightening up. Louder, he says, “Alright, people, listen up.” The crowd falls into silence, turning to face him. He lets out a breath before speaking again. “I know we’re all antsy right now. We didn’t expect this to happen yet—we thought we had time, but they caught us by surprise. We…” He falters, glancing down at the corpses still scattered across the way. “We did what we had to do. Now it’s time to keep going.” 

“We can’t waste any time. These men came alone, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be searched for soon enough. My team will be leaving for the base tonight.” He nods towards the mountains, where somewhere far enough away, the imperial remnant base is nestled. “This was the easiest part. The hardest part is still yet to come. But I have faith that we will succeed. So let’s get to work and then get the hell out of here.” 

The men erupt into hoots and hollers before resuming their work at hand. Leys claps his hand on Din’s shoulder again. “Alright, friend,” he says. “Let’s get these motherfuckers.”


	6. The Imitation Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ambush goes as planned—sort of.

By some divine miracle, the uniforms fit. 

Mostly. 

Din’s able to squeeze into one of the trooper’s uniforms. It’s tight on his biceps—the kid was pretty skinny, evidently—and even tighter where the sun doesn’t shine, but it fits, and that’s what matters. Thankfully, the other trooper was taller and just a bit broader, because Adriam’s able to slip into a trooper uniform, too. 

The others opt for the officers’ uniforms. As it turns out, one of the men was a commander; a bored one, evidently, judging by the fact that he willingly bent the rules to come bug the citizens of Kan. His uniform fits Leys well. And Gunmar, much broader than his son, squeezes into the uniform of a particularly burly lieutenant commander. 

The last man down was the smallest, which means that he’s Jovi’s best shot at a uniform. It surprisingly fits, mostly, save for a few extra inches at the bottom. Din suggests that she tuck the extra fabric into her boots, which does an okay job of hiding the out-of-regulation bagginess. 

While everyone’s getting dressed and decent, Leys disappears towards the homesteads. He comes back a few minutes later with a sling bag. And then they’re off, transporter floating in the direction of the base. It’s not a particularly fast transporter, but it works, and it’ll get them in undetected. Gunmar takes the helm and the rest settle into the back. 

“Alright,” Leys says once they’re flying over the valley dividing the town from the mountain range. He stands up and spills the contents of his bag out onto the floor. “Here’s what we got. One blaster for each of us.” He tosses them in everyone’s direction accordingly and holsters his. “We managed to salvage these from the men. Keep this on your person at all times. We don’t know if or when we’ll be noticed.” Adriam holsters his blaster, while Jovi turns hers over in her hands quietly. Still hesitant.

“And these.” Leys leans forward, clutching one of the other objects in his hand. A thermal detonator. Military-grade, and much stronger than even the ones Din has on his ship. Looking up at the others, he says, “This is a thermal detonator.” He nods at Din. “I trust you know what these are. I paid a pretty penny for them.” 

He holds it out for Jovi and Adriam to see: a small sphere lined with metallic plates. Unassuming enough, but packing a deadly punch. “Anything we made here in town would have been too weak to do any real damage. We only need a few of these. If we align them right inside of the mine, they’ll cause a chain reaction, and that should be enough for it to take the base along with it.” 

“How did you find these?” Din asks curiously. Normal detonators are easy to find in the Outer Rim; all Din has to do when he’s in need is approach a scrapper. Military-grade detonators, though, are a different story, especially in the Mid Rim. They may be on the edge of the sector, but they’re still, theoretically, bound by the laws of the New Republic—and according to the New Republic, thermal detonators are very much illegal. 

...But if Jiloh’s occupied by the Empire, New Republic laws don’t seem to apply much here, anyway.

Leys clears his throat. “I purchased them a few weeks ago,” he says. “A man came through town. It’s where I got the blasters. Adriam—” He looks up at Adriam and holds one of the detonators out. “Here. Hold one.” Adriam reaches out hesitantly. Once it’s in his hand, he turns it over cautiously, like it might blow up at any second. 

“It won’t blow up on you,” Leys says with a chuckle. He reaches forward and points at a big red button along the side of the sphere. “If you press that button for three seconds, you’ll activate it. It can’t activate otherwise.”

Adriam lifts the detonator with two gloved fingers and inspects it. With his other hand, he peels the trooper helmet off of his head and asks, “How long will I have before they explode?” 

Leys clasps his hands together. Breathing out, he says, “Three minutes. That should be enough time for us all to get out of the building and away to safety. You and your father will get out in time, Adriam. He knows his way around that mine.” 

Adriam visibly swallows. Still, he nods, wordlessly clipping the detonator into his belt. Three minutes isn’t a lot of time. If they were getting out of the building itself then maybe. But getting out of a mine and _then_ the building it sits atop in less than three minutes… 

Leys clears his throat. “Jovi,” he says suddenly, turning to face his daughter. “Do you remember what we’re doing?” 

Jovi straightens up, slowly. “Uh, yeah,” she says.

Leys hesitates before saying, “Well, just in case… Let’s go over it again. Gunmar and Adriam are going into the mines to plant the detonators. While they’re making their way through, you, me, and Mando are going to find the command deck and locate any failsafe they have, just in case the detonators don’t get the job done. We’re going to be around a lot of people, so we need to remain as calm and as in-character as possible. But on the off chance that something goes wrong, which it probably will…” He pauses and nods towards Din. “That’s what our friend is here for.” 

“Speaking of which…” Leys straightens up, nodding towards the cockpit. “Mando, can I speak to you for a second?” Din nods. He follows Leys into the front of the ship, where the man settles down into the copilot’s seat and sighs. 

“Is everything alright?” Gunmar asks. 

Leys shakes his head. Looking between them both and speaking lowly, he says, “I may have made a mistake in bringing Jovi with us.” 

Gunmar sighs. “A little too late now, friend.” 

Leys rubs his eyes. “I know,” he says. “I just… she was so insistent, and I didn’t want to break her heart. She wanted to come and help us take back our city so badly.” 

“Why’d you even let her come?” Gunmar asks. He chuckles. “Believe me, my Adriam was more than willing to defend her honor in her place.” 

Din and Leys exchange glances. 

“She insisted, like I said,” Leys said. “Knowing her, she would’ve snuck onto the transporter and come with us anyway, stubborn as she is.” 

“Hmm.” Gunmar nods in understanding. “Well…” He turns to look behind them. Adriam and Jovi are deep in discussion, Jovi seemingly attempting to explain the safety on Adriam’s blaster to him. Gunmar turns back around and shrugs. “I suppose she might know a little bit more than he does.” 

Leys presses his lips together. Reaching out to grab Din’s shoulder, he says, “I just want to know that you’ll help me defend her, if need be.” 

“Of course.” Din nods. It’s what he expected from the beginning anyway—needing to protect any kind of novice shooter if need be. But Din has a feeling she can hold her own if push comes to shove. 

Leys’ shoulders sag in relief. “Okay,” he says. “Thank you.” 

“I’m… going to go ahead and sit back down,” Din says. “Let me know if you need me.” 

Leys nods in acknowledgement and watches Din as he returns back to his seat. Din settles back down, elbows resting on his knees. He watches as Jovi and Adriam continue to chatter; something about the inn and Adriam’s mother’s insistence he take over sooner than later. This is the first time he’s seen them actually interact, he realizes, and Jovi’s a lot less hesitant to speak to him than Din expected. Which, _Stars_ , she obviously shouldn’t be: they’re getting married. It’s just that with all of the hesitation she obviously seemed to feel during the announcement of her engagement, and with the discomfort she handled his weak attempts at flirting with her last night with, Din would expect her to be a lot less… warm. 

But he doesn’t really get that kind of stuff—courting, or whatever this would be considered. He’s never really had to do it before. The closest thing he had to really even flirting was back on Sorgan, when he and that widow were—

No. Din feels himself flushing under his helmet like a Kanian schoolgirl. That was a fleeting moment. He liked her, he thinks, maybe a little, but this is different. This is _marriage._ Jovi’s not exactly the type he’d imagine when envisioning a Jilohvian arranged marriage, but still. Adriam’s a nice kid, with a nice future. A bit too forward in his descriptions of what he’d like to do with his future wife, but he’s what? Twenty-three? Twenty-four at most? He’s still green and full of hormones. He’ll even out by twenty-five. 

“Hey.”

Din glances up. Jovi’s standing in front of him. The conversation must have ended, because she’s alone now, and Adriam is up chatting with his dad by the pilot’s chair. Quietly, she asks, “Can I talk to you?” 

Din blinks. “Yeah.” 

Jovi eyes the front of the ship before settling down beside him. She seems calm enough, but once she’s sitting beside him, he can feel her legs shaking. Quietly, she fumbles with the chain dangling from her neck—one Din hadn’t really paid attention to before. It’s silver, unsuspecting. An empty half of an old locket. It's an odd thing to be wearing, a broken locket, but Din can't judge. He's been carrying around a broken piece of his ship for weeks just because the kid used to play with it. She stays silent for some time, thumbing the pendant, before blurting out, “Are you scared?” 

Din looks over at her. “Am I scared?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Are you? Do you—are you normally scared, during things like these?” 

“No,” Din admits after a moment. He’s been scared before—many times. But training as a Mandalorian means learning to harness that fear if you want to succeed. He shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

Jovi sighs. “Okay,” she says. “Okay, that makes sense. I should’ve expected that. You’re—you’re a lot more experienced with these…” She gestures at the ship, “...Kinds of things, I guess. It’s probably not much more than an adrenaline rush for you.” 

Din turns to her. “Are _you_ scared?” 

“I—” She opens her mouth and closes it again, turning away. “Yeah. I guess I am.” Her foot taps nervously against the floor. Quieter, she asks, “Is… is that stupid of me? To be scared? No one else seems to be.” 

Din looks back at the front of the ship, where the men are speaking in hushed tones. “You’re not the only scared one,” he notes. He nods towards them. “You think they’re just calmly walking into battle? They’re probably just as scared as you are.” 

Jovi sighs. “I just don’t want to be scared. I’m angry,” she admits. She tucks a misbehaving curl behind her ear. She’d pulled it back before they left, into a mostly-in-regulation ponytail, but no amount of slicking back could hide her natural curls. Thankfully, the late officer she’s impersonating left behind a perfectly good uniform cap that hides what her updo can’t. She tugs the cap further over her head in frustration. “ _Stars,_ stranger, I’m—I’m _so_ angry. And I want that to be all I feel. I want that to push me through all of this and keep me sane and calm and ready to defend myself. But I can’t help but feel so scared.” She buries her head in her hands and breathes out steadily. 

Din’s face softens behind the helmet and his voice does a little bit, too. “Fear isn’t a bad thing, kid.” Nodding towards the front of the ship again, he says, “Fear is what keeps you pushing forward. It means you have something to lose.” He nudges her shoulder. “If you don’t have something to lose, then you have nothing worth fighting for.” 

Jovi lifts her head out of her hands. Sniffing, she says, “It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” 

“I am,” Din says. 

Jovi doesn’t press. She stands back up, quickly sliding back into her seat. She looks so different—because she’s wearing pants, Din realizes. Before this afternoon, he’d barely seen so much as an ankle on her. The officer whose uniform she… borrowed, he was thin and lanky, and she isn’t. Din’s throat suddenly feels dry. He definitely wasn’t _ogling_ her, but given that this is the first time he hasn’t seen her in a floor-length dress, it feels wrong. Clearing his throat, he suddenly asks, “Are you scared about losing him?” 

Jovi’s gaze snaps over to meet his. “Excuse me?” 

“Your fiancé,” he says. He immediately feels stupid for asking—of _course_ that’s not it. She’s about to infiltrate an imperial base alongside people she loves with just a day of blaster training under her belt, and he is stupid, so so stupid for even for a moment thinking it would be anything else. This is why he doesn’t like talking.

“I’m scared of losing any of them,” she corrects, thankfully not taking much offense to his question. “Adriam’s a good guy. He deserves to live as much as any of us. But he’s not awarded any special privileges over the others just because our parents want us to marry.” 

“Right,” Din says. “But you care about him, right?” 

Jovi presses her lips into a small smile. “Of course. He’s a family friend. We’ve grown up together. But…” She looks up, ensuring that he’s out of earshot, and studies him with guilt-ridden eyes. Quietly, she finishes, “I don’t love him. Not like that.” 

And Din gets that. That’s the only kind of love he _has_ felt—that familial love you associate with the people closest to you. That’s what he felt for the others in the Tribe, just watered down, and it’s definitely what he felt for the kid. He nods knowingly and doesn’t push any further. 

The transporter lands after a few more minutes. Gunmar parks it some ways away from the base, both to be inconspicuous and to avoid losing it when the thing inevitably explodes later today. The five of them spill out onto the grass and gaze up at the base in the distance. 

It’s a hulking monster of a base: tall, ugly, and seemingly hastily built. Built directly into an abscess in the mountain, it kind of resembles crooked teeth jutting out of a rotted mouth. Not the prettiest imperial base Din’s ever seen, that’s for sure. Moff Gideon and his irritating but fashionable remnant would’ve paled at the sight. 

Leys beckons the others towards him while Gunmar fumbles with closing the ramp. “Gunmar,” he says, calling him to attention. “How long from the bottom of the mine to the top?” 

Gunmar approaches, then thinks for a moment. “Sixty seconds, give or take.” 

“Sixty seconds,” Leys repeats. “That gives you two minutes to get out of the building before the entire thing blows. Do you think you have enough time?” 

“I think so,” Gunmar replies. He looks over at his son, who’s nervously adjusting his helmet. “But we’ll have to be fast.” 

Leys mumbles the mathematics of the plan to himself. After a moment, he claps his hands together and says, “ So we’ll give you both, let’s say, five minutes? To locate the best spots to place the detonators. Meanwhile, we’ll have to find the command deck and locate the failsafe. And it runs on a three-minute timer too, correct?” 

“Right,” Gunmar replies. 

Leys rubs his eyes. “This is going to be tricky. We might have to shoot our way through if we want to make it in and out on time.” 

“But if we reveal ourselves, won’t the base go on lockdown?” Jovi points out. “That’ll mean we have even less time to get out.” 

The others in the group exchange worried looks. 

“She has a point,” Din admits. “You all do. It’s going to be a close call, but it’s the only option we’ve got.” 

Leys swallows. Stepping forward and sounding plenty more solemn, he says, “Well. We’ve made it this far. Does everyone have their supplies?” They all let out sounds of mixed approval. “Alright. Well, then, let’s head out.” 

The walk to the base is a relatively short one. Once they arrive at the front hangar, where troopers and officers alike are chatting and fine-tuning their ships. It’s a bigger base than Din expected, with a _lot_ more people than what he expected. Still, they don’t spare them much of a second look as they enter. 

“This is where we split up,” Gunmar says. He gestures towards the other side of the hangar, where a set of stairs leads downwards. 

Leys nods solemnly. “Maker be with you, my friend.” 

Gunmar nods in response. Son in tow, they disappear in the direction of the stairwell. 

Din, Leys, and Jovi continue deeper into the hangar. At the end of the long room is a wide doorway leading into the building itself. They walk through it and are greeted with the smell of shitty cafeteria food. Din stifles a groan. The last time he was in an imperial mess hall, things didn’t turn out too good. 

They weave through tables and a few dozen imperial soldiers carrying their meals. Then, at the end of that room, they’re met with a sterile, grey hallway. The smell of food still lingers in the air. 

“Do you know where you’re going?” Jovi asks. 

“Think so,” Leys replies. He leads them through the hallway, past officers on their way to the mess hall, and deeper into the bowels of the building. Getting out of here is going to be a bit more complicated than Din thought. There’s no way they’ll be able to get out the way they came: _way_ too many eager guns waiting to shoot. 

“Where are you going?” 

Din freezes. Beside him, Jovi freezes too, sucking in a sharp breath. It’s Leys who jumps into action quickly, whirling around with them following shortly after. 

An officer. Not a particularly high-ranking officer, but one who certainly concerns himself with the issues of one. He stands before them, eying them suspiciously. “I _said_ , where are you going?” he asks. “Troopers are supposed to be in post-training right now…” He glances down at Leys’ rank and frowns. “ _Commander_.” 

Leys steps forward. “Of course. I’m taking this one to the higher-ups,” he says, clutching onto Jovi’s arm. “She’s out of regulation. Put up quite a fight when we told her we were going to tell her superiors.” As if on cue, Jovi shifts uncomfortably under her father’s grasp and shoots him a half-glare. A decent actress, thankfully. Or at least a decent actress under pressure. 

The officer cocks a brow. He eyes her up and down, eyes raking her in for a little too long. “I see. And why, then, is the trooper not handling her for you?” 

Din grabs Jovi’s bicep so quickly that she winces. He whispers an apology, but it doesn’t make it past the modulator. 

“Very well.” The officer looks over both men. “Take her to where you must, commander. And trooper… I expect to see you in post-training once you’ve fulfilled the commander’s request.” 

Din nods. “Sir.” 

The officer gives them one last look-over before turning sharply on his heel and continuing down the hallway. His shoes click loudly against the metal tiles. Through his helmet, Din sees Leys’ shoulders visibly relax, Jovi’s still straight and tense. 

Thank the _Maker_ for men who know how to talk. If it were up to Din, he would’ve been as flabbergasted as the last time he was confronted on an imperial base. Wearing a full trooper’s uniform has its perks. 

“Keep walking,” Leys hisses, picking up his cadence once again. “Quickly. To the left.” 

Jovi snaps out of it and obliges. Din follows, keeping his hand wrapped firmly around her bicep. He squeezes it faintly, in reassurance, and he feels her relax ever-so-slightly under his grip. 

They continue down the hall, past other officers who peer at them inquisitively. Thankfully, no one really heeds them a second look—they’re all lower-ranking officials, ones who know better than to question a commander’s authority. A chorus of _Sir_ s and _Commander_ s ring out faintly as they pass them by. 

The layout of this base is reminiscent of the other ones Din’s… visited, but not similar enough for him to know precisely where he’s going. He follows Leys’ lead silently, surprised by how well he seems to be navigating the maze. Gunmar’s suggestions must’ve held true. 

“This way,” Leys whispers again, leading them down another narrow hallway. This time, the officers in the hallways barely pay them any heed, their attention primarily focused on the datapads in their hands. They must be close. 

The hallway thins out until it ends at an elevator. Leys ushers them in, closing the door behind them. It snaps shut with a metallic thump. Finally alone, the three let out a loud sigh of relief. Leys fishes around in his pocket and pulls out a keycard. He presses it to the pad on the wall and the elevator roars to life.

“Okay,” Leys says. “The command deck should be at the end of the next hall.” 

Jovi sighs and presses her back against the wall. Eyes closed, she says, “This is pretty far. Are we sure we’re going to make it out okay?” 

“We will,” Leys says softly. He reaches across Din to take his daughter’s hand in his. “Hey. It’s going to be okay.” 

The elevator slows to a stop and Leys quickly retracts his hand. They all straighten out as the doors slide back open. It reveals a short, narrow hall with a door at the end. This must be it. Din grabs onto Jovi’s arm again, muttering out a quiet _Sorry._

They march down the hallway in a hasty procession. Din can feel Jovi shaking under his grasp, but her eyes are glued forward, jaw taut. Eventually, they reach the end of the hallway and pause. Leys fishes through his pocket once again and lifts his keycard to the doorpad. 

“Here goes nothing…” he mutters under his breath. 

The doors slide open, revealing row after row of control panels. Then, a large window overlooking the rolling hills below. Beside him, Din hears Leys heave a sigh of relief. The room is large, but it’s mostly empty: only four officers sit at their stations at the front of the room. 

“Hey,” one of them calls, noticing their arrival. He stands up from his post and approaches as they enter. “Can I help you?” 

“Ah,” Leys says. He nods towards Din, who pretends to heave a very irritated Jovi into the room. She squirms under his touch. “This young woman is out of regulation. I told her I was going to bring this to her superiors’ attention.” 

The officer raises an eyebrow. Politely, he says, “I… see, sir.” He looks back at the other officers on the bridge, who offer him confused looks in return. 

“It’s just odd, you know. In fact…” Leys laughs, shaking his head. “When I found her, I said she almost looked like she was wearing someone else’s uniform.” He laughs again, louder, and the officer laughs uncomfortably in return. Behind them, the doors begin to slide closed. The moment the doors click closed, Leys’ face drops. “Now.”

The officers have little time to react. They drop before they can alert anyone of their distress. The first officer sinks to the ground, dragging himself painfully towards his monitor. Din shoots him again—twice for good measure. 

They advance forward quickly, Leys rushing towards the monitors at the front of the room and Din and Jovi tackling the ones flanking the sides. Din taps away at the screen, looking for anything that might prove effective, but it’s all just basic command stuff: lights off, manual resets, power capacity. 

“What are we looking for?” Jovi asks. 

“A failsafe,” Leys calls back. “A self-destruct button. Anything. How long do we have?” 

Jovi glances down at the watch on her wrist and sighs urgently. “Less than a minute before the detonators start counting down.” 

“ _Dank farrik,_ ” Leys curses. “Mando? Anything?” 

“Working on it,” Din calls back. He switches over to the next monitor, but it’s just more of the same thing. He curses under his breath. “Wait.” A new screen appears. “Leys?” 

Leys rushes over, Jovi bounding in behind him. “What is it?” 

“I think this might be it,” Din says. Half of the writing is in an unfamiliar language—the language the officer working this monitor likely spoke—but the screen definitely says _reactor meltdown_ , and that’s a good start. “But—we need clearance.” The words flash across the screen, along with space for identification numbers. “Shit.” 

“Less than fifteen seconds,” Jovi gasps out behind them. She tugs on her father’s arm. “Guys, we need to go.” 

Leys closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. Excuse me.” He nudges past Din to the monitor. Din obliges and steps back, watching as Leys inputs a series of numbers into the keyboard. 

“Dad?” Jovi asks. She takes a step back and looks at Din in confusion. 

A loading screen appears and Leys watches, fingers impatiently tapping against the control panel. “Not now,” he snaps back. He turns to look at her, eyes softening. “I’ll explain later.” He glances over at Din. “I promise.”

And Din intends on getting those answers soon—but not now. What matters is it worked. The screen flashes red. Overhead, alarms begin to sound, and lights begin to flash.

“Let’s go,” Leys says, grabbing his daughter by the hand. “Now.” 

They rush through the doors again and into the elevator. Back downstairs, the officers are in a panic, several rushing past them to get upstairs. All of the doors are thrown open and troopers run down the hall, guns strapped to their sides. 

“ _Reactor meltdown in three minutes,”_ a robotic voice announces over the intercom. “ _Evacuate immediately.”_

“Do you think Gunmar and Adriam are okay?” Jovi asks as they make a turn down another hallway. 

“I don’t know,” her father replies hastily. He looks over at Din. “We’ll know when we go outside.” 

Din nods at him. There’s no point in wondering now—it’ll just slow them down. Right now, they just need to get out, and fast. They fall in line alongside officers jogging urgently in the same direction. Here, the alarms are louder, and the people a little more desperate. They don’t have anything to do with stopping the meltdown. They just want to escape. 

“This way,” Leys says, leading them down yet another hallway. This one’s virtually empty—a way to the emergency exit route Gunmar had mapped out earlier—but things are scattered across the hallway, indicating that everyone here is either in the process of evacuating or trying to stop the meltdown. They step over the litter with urgency. 

“Two and a half minutes,” Jovi announces, out of breath. “Are we going to make it?” 

“We’re going to make it,” Leys says. “Don’t worry.” 

Din abruptly throws his hand out to stop him both. At the end of the hallway stands an officer with his blaster pointed in their direction. They raise their blasters in return. 

“Aht, aht, aht.” The officer tsks. He takes a step forward. “Not so fast.” 

He’s young—a few years older than Jovi, maybe—but something about his appearance makes Din’s skin crawl. Tall, broad, rattish. He carries himself with the proud demeanor of the type of man Din would have no problem shooting in a dark alley. Slicking his hair back, he points his blaster at Leys and says, “You thought no one would recognize you, Mr. Mayor?” 

Leys visibly swallows. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” He briefly glances down at Jovi’s watch and mutters a curse under his breath. They’re cutting it too close. 

Beside Din, Jovi lets out a sharp breath through her nose. Din glances over at her and her eyes are wide, panicked, breaths coming out in short succession. The officer notices too and approaches her with a grin. 

“What’s wrong with this one?” he says. He nudges her with his gun. “She a mute or something?” 

“Don’t touch her,” Leys seethes. 

The officer laughs. “Excuse me?” 

Din and Leys look at each other, mentally planning out their next move. Din could just shoot him. Or push him. Hell, Leys could try and shoot him, too. But the officer’s blaster is just too close to Jovi, and his finger is just a little too close to the trigger. They can’t get him without risking hurting her, too. And the clock is ticking a bit too fast for comfort. 

A smile spreads across the man’s lips. “Wait a second. I remember you.” He nudges her with the gun again. “You’re the girl. From the school.” His eyes rake her body up and down, taking in what her dresses normally hide. Din can feel Leys straining to not lunge forward and tackle the man beside him. And in most situations, if someone started treating a girl like that in front of him, Din could threaten to put a blaster ray through them and they’d clear the area in seconds. But not here. Not when the guy’s blaster is so close to someone he doesn’t want hurt. 

Din and Leys look at Jovi in unison. Her gaze is locked onto his, her jaw taut, but there are tears welling up in her eyes. In a low, warning tone, Leys says, “Leave her alone.” 

The man raises his hand to his chest in mock-hurt, but keeps his blaster trained squarely on Jovi—with no room to try and pry it away from him. “I’m offended,” he tells her. “You didn’t tell your daddy?” 

“Tell me what?” Leys snaps, but the man just tsks at him. 

“Quiet, old man,” he says. He turns his gaze back onto Jovi. “You know, I really thought we had something. I didn’t take you for a rebel bitch.” 

Jovi’s face puckers with disgust and she spits, spittle landing directly on his face. He lifts his hand to his face and wipes the spit off in shock. A snarl curls across his lips. He lifts his blaster to her forehead in one solid, angry movement—and just as quickly, he freezes. The look of amusement drops from his face until it’s gradually replaced by one of fear. He lets out a strangled choke and drops the blaster, which clatters onto the floor loudly. Leys and Din stare down at it in surprise. 

“Jovi?” Leys says. 

Jovi doesn’t listen. She keeps her hand up, trembling, in the direction of the officer. Recognition hits Din like a tidal wave. _This girl is a jedi—or something close._ She’s doing the same thing she did to him. Only she doesn’t have a reason to stop this time. 

“Jovi,” Leys says, louder now. He seems to know what’s happening, too. “Please.” 

Again, Jovi ignores his requests. There are big tears rolling down her cheeks now, and the officer’s face is an unseemly shade of red. He gasps and sputters inelegantly. A few more seconds, and he’ll die. Din can tell Jovi knows it too: her hands are trembling, nearly unusable, but her eyes are trained squarely on the man’s. She wants to watch him die. But there’s just no time for that. 

Din closes his eyes and mutters an apology she can’t hear. In one swift motion, he reaches over and lifts Jovi over his shoulder. She cries out in shock and the man sputters back to life, coughing violently. He reaches forward, clutching for his gun, but Leys kicks it out of the way and delivers a fatal shot in the same movement. He and Din give each other a look before continuing to rush down the hallway. 

Jovi lets out a mournful cry. “You should’ve let me kill him,” she sobs. 

The sound reaches all the way down to Din’s core. He knows. Whatever he did to her, he deserved that death: slow, excruciating. She deserved to kill him. But there just wasn’t enough time for that. He swallows and continues to lug her down the hallway.

At the end of the next hallway is a door with a small window to the outside. They pry it open and step outside. They’re a good few stories up, and the wind whips at them as they exit. The valley sits below them. 

“There’s a ladder here,” Leys announces. “Jovi, how much do we have?” 

Din sets Jovi back on her feet. She sniffs. “Less than a minute.” 

“Okay. We have time.” Leys breathes out. “You go first, okay?” 

She looks between them both before rubbing her nose. “Okay.” Shakily, she bends down and begins a gradual descent down the side of the building. 

Leys and Din share a look. “You go next,” Leys says.

Din shakes his head. “No, I insist.” He gestures towards the ladder. 

And Din can tell that Leys wants to protest, but there’s no time. So the man just sighs and accepts. Din watches as he crouches down and begins his own descent behind his daughter. 

The wind is strong up here, strong enough to make Din feel like he’s about to fall as he peers down at them waiting to take his turn. In fact, it’s so loud that he doesn’t hear the door behind him slam open. 

“Freeze,” a modulated voice orders, and Din does just that. He turns around, slowly, to a blaster pressed squarely into his chest. The owner of the blaster, a trooper, shoves it against him gruffly. He’s an idiot, of course, fighting to protect a base that’s about to go down in flames anyway. But Din’s not in a position to joke about it, not with a blaster pressed into his chest. 

Below, Leys shouts to him, but Din waves him off. If he tries to defend Din, then none of them will make it out in time. They have to go. There’s no time. 

Din’s stared death down before. A few times more than he’d like, really: during bounties, during bar fights he didn’t mean to become a part of, hell, even quite a few times while he was taking care of the kid. But it’s never felt as peaceful as it does right now. The wind whistling past, the rolling, green hills sitting like a waiting blanket below. 

The trooper’s uniform wouldn’t be any good to protect him against blaster fire, not this close. If he got shot, he’d just tumble down, wounded, into the waiting arms of the grass below. Dead upon impact. He closes his eyes and accepts his fate. He’s lived through enough. If this is the way he goes, then so be it. 

A blaster shot rings out. He winces, expecting to feel some sort of pain, but it never comes. When he opens his eyes, the trooper’s lying in a heap in front of him. He glances back. Leys is standing at the foot of the building, blaster raised. So he _is_ a good shot. 

“Come on!” he calls out, and Din doesn’t waste too much time following those orders. He quickly begins to clamber down, armor smacking against the rungs with every movement. It’s high, really high, and Din isn’t particularly fond of heights when he really thinks about it, but now isn’t the time. 

Down below, Jovi calls out some uncomfortably small amount of time left on the countdown. And he opens his mouth to reply, let out some groan of frustration about them cutting it so close, but it doesn’t come out—because the next thing he hears is an explosion, a loud one, and suddenly everything fades to black.


	7. (Through) The Wringer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din's pretty beat up—if he's even alive.

The first thing Din notices is the pain. A constant, unbearable pain. It branches throughout his whole body like white-hot electricity and creeps into even the deepest abscesses of his brain—gnawing on him like a womp rat that hasn’t eaten in days. He tries to move, escape the overwhelming sensation of _pain_ , but it follows him with every painful wrench of his body. His ears ring louder and louder with every movement he attempts to make.

Then it’s the light. Searingly bright and _everywhere._ Even with his eyes closed, it’s too much—and when he forces them open despite the pain, it’s all he sees. It obscures anything from view and paints the world in bright white. He lets out a loud, pained groan and tries to roll away from the light, into anything that can make it more bearable. His eyes squeeze shut. 

“He’s awake,” cries out a voice. 

Awake from what, he’s not sure. In fact, other than the seething pain coursing through his body right now, Din isn’t even sure if he’s _alive._ There’s a muffled chorus of voices—Din can sort of hear it through the violent ringing of his ears, but not enough to identify what they’re saying. 

He feels hands on him, tugging insistently at his beskar and his hands. This is it: he’s being scavenged, or taken away, or _something._ All those years, he thought he’d be a lot angrier if someone pried his armor off his dead body. He’s almost been in that position before: every time, he’s been able to fight back, shoot whoever’s trying to take his things and live to tell the tale unharmed. But right now, all he can focus on is the pain.

His hands touch the naked air—he can feel it, distantly, along with a hand pressing into his wrist. “I can’t—I can’t feel anything,” the same voice from earlier calls out desperately. Most scrappers wouldn’t sound that desperate: if anything, they’d be elated at finding a dead Mandalorian. They’re not scrappers, Din realizes. His pulse. They’re trying to feel for his _pulse_. 

There’s a commotion. Another flurry of desperate voices. They’re fighting, Din thinks. About what, he doesn’t know. Then, silence. The voice from before lets out a string of half-sobbed apologies, and Din suddenly feels the bite of cold air against his face. 

He pries his eyes open and all he sees is white. White everywhere. The ringing in his ears stops, and the world around him grows silent.

Din’s spent a lot of time wondering what death actually is—whether it feels like anything or nothing at all. Whether his parents felt pain when they died, or if the deities they’d spent so long teaching him about ever actually came and delivered them into an afterlife. So many years of uncertainty wondering where they went. If they were okay. If they were happy. 

It was never really a comfortable thought. It was something that kept him up some nights, even years after they passed when he was fully grown and living on Navarro. He’d wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, wondering if what he saw was real—if they were burning in hell, floating about with the stars, or simply nowhere at all. He never brought himself to talk about it, of course. Admitting that would mean admitting that the thought of death bugged him, and as a grown-ass bounty hunter, that wouldn’t be particularly good form, given that’s something he delivered upon hundreds of people over the years. 

So he kept quiet. Never quite knowing the truth. Never quite settling for a particular ideology or for an idea of what happens next. Ancient Mandalorians had their gods, their rituals, and their ideas of what happens next, but The Tribe didn’t think that way—most modern Mandalorians didn’t. Religion wasn’t nearly as important as culture and science. It wasn’t the afterlife that mattered, but the life you lived beforehand, and how you adhered to the values presented to you. And it was easier for him that way, to focus less on what happens after and more on his life. 

But even now, when he’s in the _after_ , he still doesn’t understand. After what feels like hours, the white seems to fade a bit and the ringing in his ears returns. There are cold hands on his neck, but their touch isn’t malignant: they’re just there. Through the haze, Din sees a face. 

“I’m so sorry,” they say. 

He strains to focus, to identify whoever it is, but he falls short. His vision is too fuzzy and his ears are ringing too loudly for him to concentrate. His head lolls back and he stares up at the sky: white with splotches of blue. Too pretty to be real.

“It’s okay,” Din manages. It’s not their fault that he had to go. He’s just glad he’s not alone in death—that there are others, somewhere. Straining again, he asks, “Are you real?” 

The face floating above him softens. “Yes,” it says. “I’m real.” 

Din heaves a sigh of relief. So this is the afterlife. His mother was right: angels do exist, wherever it is that they are. If she were here right now, she’d be elated—but she met them already, he’s sure. He feels darkness overwhelm him again. His eyes close in comfort. Something underneath him hoists him upwards, and he feels himself being lifted away, his consciousness fading. 

✫彡

Din lets out a sharp gasp and sits upwards. He doesn’t remember how he got here, but he’s in his room at the inn again, swathed in linen sheets. A dull pain spreads across his body, creeping into every inch of him—and a blindingly strong headache, worse than any hangover he’s ever had. A thick coat of sweat drenches him. He’s not in his armor, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s stripped out of it after a particularly grueling fight. 

He glances around the room, trying to piece together what happened. The doors are open with the curtains drawn, billowing about gently in the cross-breeze. The few belongings he had on him, including his armor, are tucked neatly in a corner at the front of the room and the door is closed. And, he realizes with a start, there’s a body tucked into the chair by his side, sleeping. _Jovi_ , her legs and dress tucked underneath her and her arms wrapped around herself. 

He winces at the faint light reflecting off the wall behind her. It’s too bright in here: way brighter than he remembered, even with the curtains drawn. The light makes every neuron in his brain feel like they’re on fire, overworked, overstimulated. He rubs his eyes in an attempt to dull the pain and—oh, _shit_ , no wonder he can see so clearly. Panicked, he reaches out for his helmet. He finds it on the pillow beside him and pulls it over his head before she can see him. The sudden movement sends a shock of pain through his body and he grimaces. 

Jovi stirs. Letting out a short yawn, she stretches out her neck before opening her eyes. They soften when she sees him. 

“You’re awake,” she says, sighing in relief. “Good. Let me call the doctor.” She pulls herself out of her seat and starts towards the front door. 

“Wait,” Din commands. His throat is raw and it hurts to talk, but he still manages to stop her with her hand on the doorknob. She turns around. Urgently, he musters, “I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor.” Which could be a lie for all he knows. He could’ve broken every bone in his body with the pain he’s feeling right now. But he just woke up in a foreign place with his helmet off and there’s panic starting to course through his veins because he _doesn’t remember taking it off._

Jovi hesitates. She doesn’t seem too convinced. “He just wants to make sure you’re okay,” she offers. “I promise he won’t do anything that—”

“Did you take my helmet off?” Din blurts out. 

“I—” Jovi’s face falls. Her hand visibly loosens around the doorknob as she asks, “You… you don’t remember?” 

Suddenly, Din feels a lot more clueless than normal. No, he doesn’t. All he remembers is narrowly avoiding getting shot, then darkness—and pain scattered somewhere in between. The rest is too fuzzy to be intelligible. 

Jovi glances between the door and Din before sighing. She approaches the foot of the bed and settles down, hands folded in her lap. “You fell,” she explains. “You banged yourself up pretty bad.” 

Din attempts to sit up. He feels around his body for any kind of wound, but finds nothing, except for the stinging pain all over. “Was I shot?” he asks.

“No,” Jovi says, shaking her head. “No, thankfully. We were just cutting it close, and the explosion went off early. You flew off the ladder. I don’t know how you didn’t break your neck. But you, um, broke your arm. And your collarbone.”

Din glances down and notices a sling he hadn’t before, holding his right arm flush against his chest. That certainly explains some of the pain—especially when he tried to sit up. He can grab something from his medkit for it later, once he’s feeling up to it. Looking up at her, he says, “That’s it?” 

“Yeah, well,” Jovi says, “that, some bumps and bruises, and a pretty bad concussion. It’s only been two days, but does your head feel okay?” 

No, not really: his brain kind of feels like he got run over by a landspeeder a few times and ran through the machine people use to make Kantu nut milk for good measure. He’s gotten a lot of concussions in his day, more than he’s really cared to count. But falling off the side of a building in a shitty trooper’s uniform seems to have really done a number on his head, even after Maker knows how long he’s been here. Even through the tint on his helmet, it still hurts to open his eyes.

“I’ll be okay,” Din grunts out. Then, again, he asks, “Did you take off my helmet?” 

Outside, a gull warbles: a warning cry as it likely flies low above the cliffs in search of a meal. But in front of him, Jovi is silent, staring holes into the bedsheets. She toys with the frayed ends, twiddling the threads through short, thin fingers. She visibly swallows before looking up at him with big, guilty eyes. _Kriff._ She _did._

Her voice wavers as she says, “We thought you were dead. I didn’t have a choice.” She doesn’t raise her gaze, keeping it focused distinctly away from him. “You were out cold the moment you hit the ground. I’d never seen anything like that. We dragged you away from the wreckage not knowing if you were alive. I… I couldn’t get a pulse even after I pulled your gloves off. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what else I could do.” 

A sinking feeling settles into Din’s stomach. Weeks prior, on Moff Gideon’s starship, he’d shown his face. Some time before then, too, on that imperial base during his search for the starship. But both times, he was the one to take it off. It was never anyone else’s decision to make. He hadn’t had someone else take his helmet off since—

IG-11 was different. He was a droid, not a person. And in any other situation, Din would’ve ripped apart any droid that even came close to unmasking him. He just had to let the droid save his life in order to protect the kid. There was no other option at hand. In fact, Din realizes, any time he’s even taken his helmet off has always had to do with the kid. It’s the only way he was ever able to rationalize breaking code. Because it was _him._ Because Grogu was worth breaking centuries of tradition. 

Saving Din’s life, though, isn’t. And he could yell at her for it, scream, shout, pull a blaster on her and make her plead for forgiveness. Shoot his way out of town and fly off. Settle on some sparsely-occupied Outer Rim planet where he’d never come into contact with anyone else and live the rest of his days out in hateful solitude. Angry. Codeless. Alone. 

But he can’t bring himself to. 

“I was the only one to see,” Jovi says quietly, wringing her hands. “I—I tried not to see, really. I just… I took it off so I could feel your pulse. It was weak, but it was there. And then you talked to me, and—I put it back on you. I… I didn’t want to see. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m really sorry.” 

“So you didn’t see?” Din asks, chest tight. 

Jovi finally looks back up at him and her eyes are full of guilt. “No. Not then. But…” She sighs. Shaking her head, she stands up and says, “I know you’re probably not going to believe me. I just—you were so out of it, stranger. We took you back here, to the doctor, and he needed to make sure you were okay. That we wouldn’t lose you if you fell back out of consciousness. But you wouldn’t let him take the helmet off. You tried to fight him.”

Din wants to laugh at that: the idea of himself attempting to fight a doctor with a bad concussion and a broken arm. But he can’t remember it, and judging by the look on Jovi’s face, it wasn’t exactly the most pleasant thing to witness.

She settles back down at the foot of the bed and studies him. “You really don’t remember,” she says softly after a moment. Din shakes his head. 

Jovi breathes out. She leans back on her hands and stares up at the ceiling. Flatly, she says, “You asked for me.” 

Din blinks. “What?” 

“You wanted me to stay,” Jovi explains awkwardly. “You—you said I was the only person here you trusted. So I had to look.” She gives him an apologetic half-smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else we could do. All I knew is you’d probably die without the proper care. And the proper care meant looking.” 

She rubs her eyes. “I know you have a code you follow,” she continues. “But I hope there’s some kind of exception for someone saving your life.” 

And there’s not, not with the Tribe. If it were up to them, Din would be excommunicated immediately, stripped of his beskar and forced to live out his days as a man with no purpose. But right now, all Din can focus on is what she said. _You said I was the only person here you trusted._ Bits and pieces of memories flash in his mind: fragments of faces, of conversations he can’t quite piece together over the past few days. And then—recognition. The angel he’d seen when he was on his deathbed wasn’t an angel at all. It was her. 

He doesn’t remember ever saying what she claimed he did. But all the same, somehow he knows she’s telling the truth. So instead of cussing her out, threatening her, or really doing anything he’d do to anyone else for taking off his helmet without asking, he says, “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re sorry?” Jovi asks. “I’m—” She lets out a laugh. “ _I’m_ sorry, stranger. I took your helmet off without asking you. I broke your code. I… I violated you.” 

Which—Din bristles—she’s not wrong. Wearing a helmet around other people is as natural to him as it is for everyone else to wear clothes. Her seeing him without it kind of feels the same as her seeing him naked, which given, would probably be a little bit more mortifying, but seeing as he definitely is wearing the same underclothes as before, that isn’t a concern. So he just shakes his head. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for putting you in that situation.” 

Jovi lets out a sharp breath. It’s an unnecessary apology, and she definitely knows it, but she takes it. She nods and focuses back in on the threads on the bedclothes, embarrassed. 

“Are the others okay?” Din asks. He’d almost forgotten about the other two—the father and son. 

Clearing her throat, Jovi says, “Yes.” She starts to fumble with the loose threads once more. “They made it out okay, somehow. Both a little bruised and battered, but okay. They’re recuperating back at their house. I visited them once, while you were sleeping.” 

An odd feeling settles in Din’s stomach. “You’ve been staying here?” 

Jovi’s face flushes. Picking at a particularly long thread, she mutters, “You didn’t want the doctor to check on you, so someone had to. Plus…” She yanks the thread out and tosses it onto the floor. “It keeps my father off my back. He’s been doting on me too much since…” She trails off. 

That officer. Din had almost forgotten about that. He spoke of her like he knew her—which he must’ve, somehow, but not as fondly as he sarcastically claimed. He didn’t seem like the type of man that would catch Jovi’s attention, nor anyone’s, really. And judging by how she reacted when she saw him… Din doesn’t think any attention she gave him was willful. 

Din clears his throat. “Why’d you do it?” 

Jovi’s gaze flickers upwards briefly. Now, in the all-too-bright light, and sitting so close, he can see green specks in her eyes: the same mossy shade as the rolling hills outside. He knows she can’t see through the helmet, but for a second, he feels like she can. She lets out a short breath and drops her gaze. Biting her lip and looking back down, she says, “He deserved it.” But this time, she doesn’t cry. Din kind of expects it—it’s justified—but nothing comes. Instead, she refocuses her attention on the bedsheets with a gentle sniff of her nose.

Din has a lot of questions about what happened. How she knew him, if he hurt her. What he meant by _the_ _girl from the school_. But Din knows better than to press with things like these. He has his own trauma. He wouldn’t want to make things worse for anyone else. And not for her—not after she saved his life. 

There’s a rustling as Jovi stands up. “Now that you’re awake, I should probably let the doctor know,” she says. She straightens out her dress. “Do you want anything from downstairs? I can grab you water. You’re probably parched.”

“Water’s okay,” Din replies, realizing how parched his throat feels. Jovi nods. She gives him a slight smile before opening the door and sliding out, closing it softly behind herself. 

Din stares at the back of the door in silence. He hasn’t seen a doctor in years. Quite honestly, he doesn’t think he’s even spoken to one since he was a child on Aq Vetina. The Tribe taught him how to take care of himself from a young age. That’s what medkits are for. He just didn’t have the heart to tell her not to worry about getting the doctor. She’s the first person in so long that’s gone out of his way to actually help him. The least he can do is offer her some sort of reassurance. Even if she did see him without his helmet on. 

Which, truth be told, he still can’t bring himself to be mad at her about. Somehow. Maybe it’s the whole life-saving regard or maybe it’s just ironic: an eye for an eye, a secret for a secret. He got to hear a secret she hadn’t told anyone else in well over a decade and she got to see his face. 

Or maybe it’s the fact that however faint the similarity, she’s sort of like the kid. Not mentally and definitely not physically—but they both have the gift. And maybe it’s just an odd coincidence. Din’s come across a lot of those over the course of his life. But ever since he met the kid, Din has started second-guessing coincidences. Things sometimes happen for a reason. Maybe… in some weird way, he was meant to come here. To meet another jedi… thing. To know the kid’s not alone. 

He pulls himself out of bed with a series of grunts. He can’t be thinking about that right now, not when he needs to focus on healing. The pain hits him like a ton of bricks—and the dizziness, too, from lying down for so long. His ears ring violently and the light around him fades, swallowed up by static and darkness. He falls back onto his ass and stays perfectly still until he can see clearly. He manages to slide the bottom half of his armor back on with moderate effort, but his chestplate is a no-go; his collarbone is definitely broken, and his bad arm doesn’t want to cooperate. White-hot pain travels up and down his chest as he tries and fails to slide the armor back on. He sinks back into the bed, pulls his gloves on, and does his best to ignore the pain. 

The doctor comes back in with an armful of supplies. Jovi comes trailing behind, with a glass of water and a plate full of food. Her face breaks into a sheepish smile when she catches Din glancing at the plate. “I thought you might be hungry,” she says, and places it gently on the nightstand beside him. 

The doctor runs Din’s vitals. His instruments are cold against Din’s skin, colder than the bite of the beskar he normally feels, and he doesn’t really want them there in the first place, but he stays put. Jovi sits beside him, listening intently to the doctor’s observations. When he lets out a grunt of pain at the doctor feeling around the apex of his collarbone, her hand slips into his, squeezing supportively. His hand stills, unsure of what to do at the sudden touch. Through the holes in the leather, he feels her skin, warm and comforting. He doesn’t pull away. 

They run a series of tests that Din doesn’t quite understand and the doctor asks him a million-and-one questions. Kanian medicine is advanced, it seems, but Din would much rather slap some healing cream from his medpack on his shoulder and call it a day. He doesn’t need all of this prodding and talking. Still, he lets the girl hold his hand, partially because his body hurts like a bitch but also because the look on her face is so guilty that it feels more like it’s comforting _her_ than it is him. She stays by his side the whole time, only letting go when the doctor walks between them. 

Once the doctor’s satisfied with Din’s results, he pats him on the shoulder and bids them adieu. He leaves the door cracked—a suggestion from Opal, most likely—and Jovi quietly gets up to close the door behind him. 

“Sorry,” she says as she approaches again. “He just wanted to make sure you were healing alright. You hurt yourself pretty bad.” She reaches for the water on the bedside table and holds it out for him. He takes it into his hands. Clasping her hands together, she says, “Well… I guess I’ll leave you to it. I don’t want you to be dehydrated because I didn’t give you some privacy.” 

Din looks up at her, all politely folded hands and a guilty gaze. There are dark circles under her eyes and, come to think of it, she looks exhausted. She probably hasn’t slept much since everything happened, save for when he abruptly woke her up earlier. Then he eyes the bedside table: the glass full of ice-cold water and the plate full of cookies, fruits, and other snacks. All carefully curated. She feels guilty. 

“You don’t have to go,” Din assures her. “Just… turn around.” Jovi quickly turns and becomes particularly interested in the designs on the wall. She folds her hands behind her back politely and waits. Din tilts his helmet upwards just enough to lift the glass to his lips. He takes several gulps before sliding his helmet back on and placing the glass on the table. Throat no longer as dry, he says, “You can look again.” 

Jovi turns back around. Slowly, she settles down into the chair beside him, legs folded. “The cookies are infused with kingberries and lavender,” she says after a moment. She gestures towards the plate. “And that’s some barbabee honey in the little jar beside it. It’s in season.”

Din studies the cookies. They do look delicious, as does everything else on the plate. Quintessentially Kanian _._ He’ll have to try them later, when he has time alone to himself. He’s not particularly hungry yet—probably because the pain has dulled any hunger he might be feeling—but it would be good to eat something. Nodding, he says, “Tell Opal I said thank you.” 

Jovi shifts in her seat. Biting her lip, she says, “Actually um… I made them. Opal’s been back at the house watching over Adriam and her husband.” She looks away. “I, um, couldn’t sleep. You were out like a light. No one else is here and I didn’t have much else to do. So I baked. It’s my mom’s old recipe.” 

“Oh.” Clearing his throat, Din says, “Well, they look delicious.” 

Jovi nods quietly. Another silence fills the room and outside, there’s a chatter of new voices. Tourists, Din hopes. Though he knows there’s no way they’ve gotten word yet. They’ll come back eventually, once they’ve all learned that it’s safe to. They’ll come back and fill the streets with life again and Kan will flourish, just like it had for so long before this last occupation. They’ll be happy. They’ll be finally free. And Jovi, she’ll get married to her betrothed, and they’ll take over the inn, and she’ll have every night to come into the kitchen and bake herself a batch of kingberry cookies. With kids of her own to take care of like she has so fiercely the children of Kan.

It’s not the worst life she could lead. She’ll be wealthy, cared-for, and carefree. Maybe not in love, or particularly herself, but… That’s just not in the cards for her. Not here. But she could learn to be happy. She deserves to be.

“Hey,” Din says suddenly. An idea. Maybe a crazy one. “Have you ever met anyone else with your… gift?” 

Jovi leans forward to grab one of the cookies from his plate and freezes. “No,” she says. She leans back with the cookie in her hand. “Honestly, I didn’t even know anyone else could do it until you told me. Not anymore, at least.” Her brow furrowing, she asks, “Why?” 

“I—” Din thinks. Looking up at her, he says, “I think I might know someone who can help you.” 

Jovi stills. In a small voice, she asks, “What?” 

“A man with the same gift as you,” Din says. “I don’t know him personally, but… I think he could train you.” It’s a long shot. So much of a long shot that he probably shouldn’t have even said it—because he doesn’t know where the guy is, or where he took Grogu, or even if he’s willing to take another kid under his wing. But the girl deserves to be herself.

She laughs. Then, again, louder, in disbelief. Shaking her head, she says, “You’re joking.” Din’s silence tells her everything she needs to know. She stares at him, jaw agape. “You’re not joking,” she says slowly.

“Remember that kid I told you about?” Din asks. “The one with the gift?” At her slow nod, he says, “It’s… a long story, but he came for the kid. To train him. I don’t know where they are, but we could try and find them. Maybe he can train you, too.” 

Hope fills Jovi’s eyes. She tries to hide it, but he could recognize that look anywhere. A chance to be herself. A chance to learn who she is. It’s a chance that not a lot of people are afforded and as a woman on this planet, it’s a chance she certainly wouldn’t get otherwise. But just as quickly, the light in her eyes fades. She looks away. 

“What’s wrong?” Din asks. “This is good news.”

She looks up at him, hazel eyes soft. “Do you think we could get him to come here? To Kan?” she asks. 

“No,” Din admits. He wasn’t even the one to communicate with him—and even if he could, somehow, he doubts the man would say yes. He’s shrouded in mystery. The last place he’d want to stay would be a bustling port town. He probably wouldn’t even make it into the Mid Rim. “I… don’t think he’d feel safe here. But I could find a way to take you there.” He swallows. “It’s the least I could do.” 

The idea of traveling Maker knows how long alongside someone else is odd. After the kid, he told himself he wouldn’t do it again—wouldn’t let someone stick around long enough for him to get attached. But if he needed to, he’d do it. As much as he resented her for it at first, she saved his life. She cares. That’s worth something. 

Jovi breathes out. Shaking her head, she says, “This is amazing news, stranger, and I’m really grateful that you’re willing to do this for me. But my father wouldn’t say yes.” She offers him a weak smile. “I’m the only child left. And I’m…” She fumbles with the ring on her finger. Din hadn’t realized it, but she’s been wearing it the whole time. The emerald shimmers in the light with every twirl she gives the ring. 

“I’m engaged,” she continues. “Whether I like it or not. I can’t leave. I—I made a commitment.”

And Din wants to correct her, tell her that her father made the commitment and she merely chose to respect it, but he can’t. It’s not his culture. It’s what she was raised to do: get married, have kids, help keep Kan beautiful and happy and well-kept. Even if she wishes it wasn’t. It’s what she feels is right. 

“I understand,” Din says. He shouldn’t have brought it up. He gave her false hope. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“But…” Jovi begins, faltering. Letting out a sigh, she says, “Maybe it’s worth a try.” She twirls the emerald so it’s facing her palm, out of sight. “I’ll talk to my dad about it. Thank you.” Her eyes flicker up to meet his gaze. “Really.” 

Din nods in response. They sit like that for a moment, Jovi fumbling with the ring on her finger and Din sitting there, watching, waiting for one of them to say something else. Taking her to find the jedi would be a job. It would be something for him to focus on instead of the ever-looming threat of the Dark Saber, and the throne, and the insanity that comes along with all of it. He could distract himself for as long as he needed to. It could work. 

At least, he hopes it would work. 

There’s a rapping at the door. They both turn to face it and the door slowly creeps open, revealing a robe and a head of salt-and-pepper hair. Din sits up and grunts at the pain. Jovi, who’d been leaning forward in her seat, leans back quietly, folding her hands neatly in her lap. 

“Mando.” Leys nods at him and closes the door behind himself. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Din lifts his slinged arm slightly in response. “I’ve been better,” he replies. 

“I’m sure.” Leys stops at the foot of the bed. He turns to Jovi and eyes the bare piece of metal on her finger. His brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. Clearing his throat, he asks, “What did the doctor say?” 

Jovi notes his gaze and quickly flips the ring back into his rightful position. “Same as last time,” she replies. “He just needs to rest.” 

Din’s done plenty of resting the past few days: so much so that he can’t remember what happened after the accident. He’s not particularly fond of staying still for too long—it puts his guard down, and it takes a while for him to get back to normal—but while he’s itching to get up and keep moving, they’re probably onto something. He’ll stay put until the pain isn’t as jarring. At least until the headache from the concussion subsides. 

“Okay,” Leys says. He loops his fingers through the belt loop of his pants. “Okay, good. Well, Mando, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. It’s the least we can do after the sacrifice you made for us.” His gaze wanders past them, towards the plate of kingsberry cookies at Din’s side. Curiously, he steps forward, picking one up and inspecting it. Turning to Jovi, he asks, “Did you make these?”

Jovi blinks. “Oh. Um, yes,” she says, sitting up straight. “I couldn’t sleep last night and wanted to kill time. They’re…” 

“Mom’s recipe,” they say in unison. 

A funny look spreads across Leys' face. He steps back, dazed, and pops one in his mouth. Nodding, he says, “They’re… they’re good, Jovi. They taste just like hers.” He savors the cookie, standing between them for some time before clearing his throat. “Excuse me. Um—” He turns to Din, “Don’t let me forget. We’re going to make sure you’re well compensated for everything you did here, Mando.”

“That’s alright,” Din dismisses. “Consider it a favor.” He’s done stuff like this for free a million times. Being paid for doing what’s right isn’t necessary. Distracting himself here the past few days has been payment enough. 

Leys shakes his head. “I insist,” he replies. He sweeps his arms in a grand motion. “We all do. Like I said, it’s the least we can do. Plus, now that the base is gone, we’ll be back in the tourism business in no time.” 

The base. Din had almost forgotten the incident at the base—when Leys pulled the codes out of thin air, right when they needed them. Din had brushed it off at first, saying he’d worry about it later, but it _is_ later, and no one’s explained it to him yet. People don’t just know imperial identification numbers right off the bat. There’s something there: a family member, a friend, or a backstory Din just hadn’t been made aware of yet. 

“We’ll see,” Din says after a moment of hesitation, though he has no real intention of letting them pay him. He’ll just dismiss their attempts and slip away once he’s healed enough to. 

“Alright.” Leys clasps his hands together in the universal sign for _it’s time to go_. A wedding band shimmers in the light when he does so—one Din hadn’t noticed before. Din wonders how long it’s been since his wife passed. He looked like he’d seen a ghost when he noticed the cookies. “Well, um, we’ll let you rest then. Jovi?” He nods towards her. “Let’s let him rest. I’m sure he’s exhausted.” Jovi stands up and straightens her dress out, fabric falling neatly back past her ankles. 

“Actually,” Din interrupts, reaching in Jovi’s direction. His gloved hand curls around her wrist and she jumps. “I have a question for you. About the other day. Can you stay for a moment?” 

Jovi looks down at his hand. He lets go quickly. “Yes, of course,” she says after a split second of hesitation. She casts a look in her father’s direction. “I’ll be one second.” 

Leys looks between them both. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll, uh, leave the door open.” He nods in Din’s direction once more. “You rest up, alright?” 

Leys casts them one more long look before opening the door again and disappearing behind it. He leaves it wide open behind him. Din stares down the hall, listening to the bustle of people on the main floor and Leys’ footsteps on the staircase. 

“Sorry,” Din says, turning back to Jovi, who’s standing politely beside his bed. “I almost forgot to ask you. Did… you ever talk to your father about what happened on the base?” 

Jovi pales. “No,” she says, shaking her head. She rubs her arm nervously. “I don’t plan on telling him anytime soon, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

Din shakes his head. Quickly, he mends, “No, not that. In the control room. When he bypassed the system.” 

Jovi’s shoulders sag in relief. “Oh.” Her brow furrows. “No, I haven’t talked to him about it.” 

“Do you know what that was about?” Din asks. 

“No,” Jovi admits, shaking her head. She casts a weary look over her shoulder, out the wide-open door. Turning back, she says, quieter, “I haven’t really had the time to ask him. He’s been so busy with preparing the town for visitors and making sure you and the other men are okay that we haven’t really crossed paths much these past few days. But I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. More likely than not, he just got the codes from Gunmar or someone who served. This place is full of ex-Empire families. It wouldn’t be the craziest notion.”

Din hadn’t thought of that. It makes sense. Almost everyone in Kan has some sort of Empire lineage, regardless of how far back it may be. If Leys asked, he probably would’ve gotten a dozen valid identification numbers. He just must have some pretty good memory to remember all of it. 

“Oh,” Din says. “That makes sense.” 

Jovi nods, biting her lip. She picks the empty glass of water up from the bedside table. “Even Gunmar’s ex-military, technically. His dad had him enlist when he was eighteen. But he failed out of basic training. Willingly, of course. The guy’s huge.” She thinks on it for a moment before adding, “I think he probably does have an identification number. So I don’t see why it wouldn’t work.” 

A new recruit’s identification number is unlikely to have enough clearance to bypass self-destruct procedures. Still, Din doesn’t press, because it’s obvious Jovi only knows as much about the situation as he does. Nodding, he says, “Alright. Well, thank you. You should probably head out then. Visit your fiance. I don’t want your father getting any ideas.” 

A faint smile reaches Jovi’s lips. “Ideas about what?” she muses, although she knows exactly what he means. She takes a step back. “Alright. I’ll leave you be. But I’ll be sending Ulis up to come check on you. Want me to close the door for you?” 

Din nods. She takes the empty glass and presses it to her chest. 

“Rest up, stranger,” she says. “You have a lot of flying ahead of you.” With that, she turns and exits the room, pulling the door closed behind her. 

Truth be told, he didn’t want her to leave, not really. It’s been a long time since he’s sat down and talked to someone this long about something that _wasn’t_ the Kid, or his mission to help him. Din’s not a particularly big talker, and he can do without talking most times, but talking to her feels… normal, or as normal as it can be when he’s bedridden talking to a twenty-something-year-old that can move things with her mind. If he’d told himself six months ago that he’d be in this situation after meeting not one but two force-sensitive people, he’d probably just laugh. But right now, his body hurts a little bit too much to laugh. 

So he just sits there for a bit, resting and eventually taking off his helmet when he’s sure no one’s about to bust in. He studies the cookies, decorated with flowers and the rich pink seeds of kingberries, before taking a bite. And they’re delicious. Really delicious, and he’s really hungry, so the rest of the plate disappears in a few bites. The kid can bake.

When he’s done eating, he puts the plate back by his side and lets exhaustion wash over him. Exhaustion that he’s not quite accustomed to. He has to remind himself that it’s only been two days since he was violently launched off the side of an imperial base—he has every right to be tired. In a few days, he’ll be up and about and ready to venture to the next planet. 

But until then, he's going to sleep. In a real bed, with real pillows, and a really bad headache. 


	8. The Last Supper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Rape mention (brief and not descriptive)

Recovering from a concussion is decidedly _not_ one of Din’s favorite pastimes. He’s had concussions plenty of times. Living your life with a tin can on your head tends to do that; it keeps you safe, sure, but it also tends to bang your brain around like fish in a barrel. But Mandalorian helmets are made to somewhat protect your brain from trauma, and it seems that trooper helmets are… not. Not that it makes much of a difference after falling a good few dozen feet.

So he stays in that little bed at the Kanian inn for a few days, repeatedly trying and failing to get up and pretend like he didn’t almost die. As it turns out, if you get a concussion severe enough, your body refuses to kriffling _function_ , and waking up from a concussion-induced stupor can actually make it worse. He spends a few failed attempts at getting out of bed doubled over the trash can beside his bed that the innkeeper placed there precisely for that reason. 

It’s kind of pathetic. To Din, at least. He’s used to patching himself up and limping along after an injury, no matter how severe. Even the time that IG-11 saved him from a near-death experience, he was able to pick himself up and keep going. But he had something to fight for then—he had the kid. Now, not as much, even as desperate as he is to get to his client. It’s like his body took all of the exhaustion he fought off the past several months and packed it all onto him in the span of a few short days. 

He hates it. He doesn’t like to be doted on. Opal and Jovi are nice enough about it—they pop in and out over the course of him being practically bedridden, bringing him bread and other snacks that he won’t immediately puke up—but they have other things to focus on, other people to tend to. Tourists have begun to pour in, somehow getting the news that Jiloh is safe again, and the inn starts to fill with guests. _Paying_ guests, one of which he is definitely not. He’s offered to pay multiple times now, but Opal just brushes him off every time, saying that it’s the least she could do. _It’s the least they could all do_ ; they keep saying that again and again, compensating him for something that quite honestly he would’ve done for free. He feels like a leech.

So he keeps fighting through the pain, getting up more and more until his stomach doesn’t violently lurch every time. The concussion’s the hardest thing to push through—he’s on bone stabilizers now, so his arm and collarbone are practically numb—and slowly, it starts getting more and more manageable. According to the doctor, he’s healing quickly, but _a few days_ doesn’t feel quick to Din at all. 

On the fourth day of consciousness, Din gets out of bed. He wanders down the stairs, ground swaying beneath him from spending so long in bed, and carries himself into the tavern. Locals and tourists alike eye him as he stumbles his way in, probably looking like he drank one too many shots of Tihaar. He pulls himself onto a bar stool with a grunt. 

Opal spots him from the other side of the bar. She eyes him as she pours a man across the way a cup of tea. She exchanges pleasantries with the man before putting the vase of tea down and rushing to greet him. “Mando,” she says. “What are you doing out of bed? Are you feeling alright?” 

“I’m feeling alright,” Din says. “Just wanted a change of scenery.” 

She smiles faintly. She’s pretty young, probably not much older than forty, with lines that form at the edges of eyes. Lines that she, the last time she came to bring him food and check on him, remarked that she had thanks to Adriam. He was a funny kid growing up, she explained. And she’s very grateful that he got out alive. 

“I see,” she muses. She tosses a towel over her shoulder. “Would you like anything to eat? I can give you something to bring back up to your room.” 

“I’m not hungry,” Din says, shaking his head. “But thank you.” 

“Okay,” she says. “Well, stay here as long as you would like. Call for me if you need anything.” She turns and begins to speak to another customer. Din sits there, hands clasped, listening to the chatter filling the tavern. He doesn’t particularly care much for being surrounded by people, but seeing customers here means that things are finally getting back to normal. One step closer to the people of Kan being free and prosperous again. 

The stool beside him is pulled backwards. He turns and comes face-to-face with Leys, who’s swinging his leg over and sitting beside him. “You’re out of bed,” Leys greets cheerfully. He pats him on the shoulder. “Good. How are you feeling?” 

“Like I got hit by a landspeeder,” Din admits. “But it’s getting better.”

Leys chuckles. Shaking his head, he says, “I bet. I’m sorry for all of the trouble we caused you. I know you weren’t planning on staying here long.” He nods outside, towards the landing bay at the other end of town. “Your ship’s in tip-top shape and ready for you. The mechanics had ample time to fix everything that needed to be fixed. Free of charge, of course.”

Clearing his throat, Din says, “That won’t be necessary. I can pay for the fixes. You’ve already all given me so much.”

Leys reaches out again to clap his good shoulder. “Nonsense, we insist. Opal?” he calls out. Opal comes over to greet him. “Can I have a fireberry tea, please?” She nods and disappears past the doors leading into the kitchen. She returns with another vase full of tea, this one a vibrant orange color, and pours him a glass. He takes a long, lingering sip and closes his eyes.

“Mm, thank you.” He nods towards Opal in appreciation. She smiles faintly before heading back into the kitchen. 

“Mm.” Leys takes another long sip. Putting his glass back down, he says, “You know, we grow our own fire berries here. They’re delicious. Jovi’s favorite after kingberries.” He grins. “There’s a bush in our garden. When she was little, we used to find her sitting under the bush absolutely round with berries. I’m surprised she never got sick of them.” 

A soft look overtakes Leys’ face. Taking a sip, he adds, “She was a fun little girl. Very active. Always inquisitive. And fierce—like you wouldn’t imagine. But always polite.” He shakes his head. “Crazy to think that she and I would be taking down an imperial base together one day.” He pauses and stares off into the distance, pensive. 

“You never explained what happened at the base,” Din points out. He taps his fingers against the bartop. “I asked Jovi. She didn’t know either.” 

Leys puts his tea down. Rubbing his temple, he says, “Yeah, I know.” He looks over at Din and lets out a short sigh before looking back away. “That’s, uh, that’s why I came to see you.” He gestures back towards the foyer. “I saw you weren’t in your room. I’d hoped to speak to you in private, but…”

He turns, Din following his lead shortly. The people behind them pay them no mind—they’re just locals and a few tired travelers, all out of earshot. A man in a fisherman’s hat nods at Leys in greeting and Leys returns the favor, lips pressed into a polite smile. Turning back around, he says, lower, “I was going to tell you when we got back, but then your accident happened, and Jovi didn’t want to leave your side because she blamed herself so much, which…” He trails off and shakes his head. “If anything, it was my fault. I should’ve shot the bastard the moment he cornered us. I could’ve.” 

“She protected herself,” Din mends. “And us.” He knew the risks he took when he said yes to helping them take back their planet. No one’s to blame for his fall but himself. 

Leys sighs. “I suppose,” he says, though he doesn’t seem too convinced. He takes a few long sips of his drink. Closing his eyes and putting the glass back down on the bartop, he exhales and says, “You feeling okay for a walk, Mando?” 

Din obliges. He follows Leys out of the inn. At first, the brightness is overwhelming; after nearly a week of being inside with the curtains drawn, sunlight feels foreign, like the uncomfortably white lights on a cruiser after days of cruising through space. He squints, even through the helmet. Then some clouds gather overhead, shielding the hills from the harsh sunlight, and Din breathes a short sight of relief. 

They continue down the hill. In the distance, Din’s ship sits patiently on the tarmac, glistening in the sunlight filtering in through the clouds. Far cleaner than when he first got it, with the dirty, rusted-off parts scrubbed clean or at least painted over. Leys wasn’t kidding when he said they fixed it up for him. They stop a few dozen feet away, on the edge of the platform. 

Leys lets out a whistle. “She’s a beauty,” he says. He nudges Din’s good shoulder. “She have a name?” 

Din hadn’t really thought of that. Probably because the ship doesn’t really feel like it’s _his_ just yet—he only had it for a few weeks before he even landed here. It feels more like a rental than a ship that’s fully his, especially now that it’s so clean. Din’s never had a clean ship. He shakes his head. “No, I haven’t.” 

“Huh.” Shrugging, Leys says, “Well, it’s a nice ship.” He leans Din further past the tarmac, towards the strip of meadow along the cliffside. They stop a few feet from the edge. Din peers down from a step or two behind Leys, not particularly wanting to accidentally stumble down the hundred-something foot dropoff. He’d break a lot more than just two bones. 

“You know,” Leys says, snapping Din back to attention, “I used to have a ship.” 

“You don’t strike me as the type,” Din replies, because he doesn’t. People from Kan don’t usually have ships—they don’t need them. Everything they need is brought in on transport ships or from on-planet, from the southernmost areas where produce and wine grapes are grown. The few people on Kan he _has_ met over the years with ships have all been diplomats, all of which must have moved away since the last time he was here. 

Din glances over at Leys, whose eyes are fogged over with nostalgia. A smile spreading across his face, Leys shakes his head and says, “It was a long time ago. I was… sixteen, I believe. My father bought it for me. It was a smaller model, a lot smaller than yours of course. It didn’t even have a bunk. I’d just sleep on the floor.” He laughs. “My mother just about had a heart attack when she saw that thing parked outside. But I had dreams of flying, and my father knew he couldn’t stop me. So they let me.” 

He turns to Din. “You know what I mean. It’s exhilarating. You feel the engine whir to life underneath you and the atmosphere burns everywhere around you and then suddenly you’re up there, amongst the stars. It’s not the kind of feeling anything else can replicate.”

Din knows exactly what he means, so he nods. He’d picked up the art of flying _well_ before the age of sixteen. It was a requirement in the Fighting Corps; another step of learning how to take care of yourself when no one else will. The Tribe had an uncanny way of emphasizing brotherhood while reminding their young people that they were all their own responsibility. He was the youngest of the bunch, one of a tiny handful of foundlings orphaned by war, which meant that for a long time, he was way smaller than the others. When he learned how to fly, he was just barely big enough to fit in the pilot’s seat. His legs didn’t touch the ground. And _Maker_ , did the other kids bully him for it. 

But it was exciting. _Maker,_ was it exciting. For a ten, maybe eleven-year-old kid, the idea of flying a ship into outer space was crazy. It was the closest thing to playing that he was allowed to do with the Tribe. _He_ was in control. _He_ was in space, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted for the few brief moments he was up there. 

Down below, the waves crash. Leys’ nostalgic smile fades, slowly, until he’s staring out at the horizon with his hands folded neatly behind his back. “I kept chasing that high,” he admits. “Well until after I should’ve stopped. I’d leave for days, weeks at a time. It made my mother sick, and my father urged me to stop and think of her. That just egged me on further. I didn’t want to listen. I enlisted.”

Din’s gaze shoots up. For the first time, Din can see the tiredness behind his eyes—the age behind his nonchalant mayoral demeanor. He gives Din a weak smile and says, “The codes were mine.” 

Gaze still glued to the horizon, Leys continues, “I had just turned eighteen. I was betrothed to Jovi’s mother by then, and she pleaded with me not to go, but I went anyway. I wanted to see the stars. No one in our family had served before, but my father was a loyalist. He was proud. So I got married to Sara, and then I left. A year later, I came back to her clutching our eldest daughter and telling me I was a father.” 

Leys takes a step back. He turns to Din, gaze solemn, and shakes his head. “I wish I could tell you that I was too young, Mando. That I didn’t know what I was doing. But I did, and I was damn good at it.” He turns something over in his hands—a stone. Winding his arm back, he tosses it as far as he can over the cliff. It disappears into the ocean below. “I was a colonel by the time Jovi was born. That’s… that’s how good I was at that _bullshit._ We never told Jovi that I was in the army. I asked Sara not to, not after she told Siraya. Siraya would watch me leave like it was nothing. I don’t think she ever forgave me for leaving. But Jovi... She’d be so upset every time I left. She’d cry and beg me not to leave, and I’d have to look her in her big brown eyes and tell her that daddy has to go to work. And then I’d be off for months at a time. I wish it hadn’t taken so long for me to quit.

“I’d just been promoted to brigadier general a few months before. We landed in Naboo amidst rumors of insurgency. The people seemed restless. More so than they had been in the last few months. A small team of officers and I made our way into the heart of the city to discuss affairs. Then, after that, we went out for drinks.” He swallows. “It was a small cantina on the outskirts of the city where imperial men stopped when docked in Naboo. We got drunk. My general, especially. Everything was fine until the woman came in.” Din’s stomach sinks. He’s heard this story too many times before. He knows how it ends. 

Wearily, Leys raises a hand to his face and rubs his eyes. “He… he wasn’t a good man. I knew that, though I did my best to keep him happy because it was my job. He was a sleazeball, and she was the only woman there. You know how these men are. We were all leering at her like a couple of hungry dogs,” Leys admits. “But I would’ve never laid my hands on her. And I wish I’d been more observant. I didn’t realize what he’d done until I stepped outside to get some fresh air.” 

“He had her bent over a barrel like a whore, and she was—she was pleading for him to stop,” he says, voice tight. He shakes his head. “I’d never heard anything like it. I’d heard rumors of those things, you know. Whisperings from men who’d been on the ground. But I was always working internally. I didn’t see these things happen. And I couldn’t get that shit out of my head.” 

Din swallows hard. Leys’ eyes glaze over, memories replaying in his head. 

“I couldn’t do anything about it,” he says. “He had his gun to her head. I thought he’d kill her if I made a sound. So I just went back inside, sat back down at the bar, and I waited.” His hand trembles at his side. Letting out a bitter half-laugh, he says, “The thing about these men is that they’re arrogant. They don’t expect to be betrayed, because they think they know you better than you know yourself. That you _need_ them. So I waited, and I waited, until he sat down next to me. I even ordered him a drink and laughed over things for a bit. I offered him a smoke, told him to come outside with me. He did. It was raining outside, so we made our way to a tarp outside of the cantina. I lit the smoke. Handed it to him.” He sets his jaw. “Then I shot him in the head.” 

Din looks out over the horizon. He’s usually not the best at talking to begin with, but after that story… he’s speechless. He’d expected the typical story: deserting after seeing too much bloodshed on the battlefront, getting bored of following commands. But not that. Swallowing, he asks, “Did you get caught?” 

“No,” Leys says quickly. “I don’t think so. I went inside and told everyone he’d wandered out for a drunken piss. We waited for him for some time before we all gave up. They figured he’d wander back to the ship at some point, once he’d gained some coherence. Then when they were all asleep, I stole a cruiser and left. Yanked out the trackers and turned off the alarms so they wouldn’t be notified. I didn’t look back. That part of my life was dead now. That man no longer existed.” 

Din lets out a short breath of realization. Slowly, he says, “You’re Kemp Alrick.” He should’ve realized it before: all of the signs were there. He wasn’t protecting just any random deserter. He was protecting himself. 

Leys nods. “In the flesh,” he says, with a dry chuckle. At the lack of response from Din, he explains, “I was a sneaky kid, and before I went away to training, I always had a feeling I’d want to leave some day. So I gave them a fake name, the combined names of two friends of mine I’d met while exploring the rest of the Mid Rim. I stopped being reluctant after a while, but the name ended up coming in handy. They never caught on. All they knew was that I was from Jiloh. And when the story came out that ‘ _Kemp Alrick’_ had drunkenly thrown himself off a cliff in Kan, well…” He shrugs softly. “I suppose they stopped looking.” 

“I don’t know if they stopped looking,” Din says. “The man who sent me seemed very insistent on finding you alive.” 

Leys swallows. Brief concern flashes across his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. Waving his hand in dismissal, he says, “Faulty information, I’m sure. Nearly all of the officers I worked alongside died in the Death Star explosion. No one remembers what I look like. And all of the Empire loyalists that lived here are long gone. We’re safe.” He hangs on the last word. “My daughter is safe. My town is safe.” 

Something deep in Din’s stomach tells him that Leys might be too optimistic, but now is not the time to voice his concerns. He nods, reluctantly, and looks out over the horizon. “Have you told her?” 

Leys turns to look at him. “No,” he admits after a moment. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat. “Quite honestly, I don’t know how to. I know me being absent for much of her childhood wounded her, and it took a long time for me to gain that trust back. She’s all I have left. I don’t want to risk losing her.”

Din’s memory flashes back to the other day, when he off-handedly mentioned to Jovi how he could possibly help her train her abilities. Guilt settles into his stomach. He doesn’t want to be responsible for separating this family, however neutral his intentions may be. But if Leys doesn’t tell her, and the truth spills out somehow… she’s going to leave in a way that’s far worse. 

“I think you should tell her,” Din urges. 

Leys looks away. Nodding hesitantly, he says, “I know. I will, in time.” 

Overhead, the sun begins to peek out again, warming Din’s shoulders and making the world just a bit too bright for his liking, thanks to the concussion that’s still plaguing him. He grimaces and takes a step back, raising a hand to his visor. 

“I think I’m going to head back to the inn,” Din says. “I want to be feeling alright by the time I leave tomorrow morning.” 

“I understand.” Leys nods. “I’m sure you’re eager to get going. But in the meantime, I wanted to let you know that there’s a celebration tonight. At our house, in your honor. Opal, Gunmar and I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for us and how you’ve helped us take back our planet.” Din lets out a noise of objection, but Leys just shakes his head and interrupts, “No, I insist. Really.” He claps Din on his good shoulder and smiles slightly. “We’ll miss you Mando. Let us celebrate you.” 

Din could think of a thousand reasons why that’s not a good idea, particularly because he doesn’t _like_ parties but also because every time there’s a loud sound around him, his brain kind of feels like it’s melting in on itself, but he doesn’t say anything. He just nods, politely, and accepts his fate. He’s leaving in the morning. The least he could do is grace their party with his presence. 

“Alright,” Leys says. He retracts his hand. “Go take a shower, get changed, throw on your best cape. Do whatever you need to do.” He starts his trek towards the town. Over his shoulder, he calls out, “The celebration starts at sunset. But be there!”

Leys disappears down the grassy hill. Din spares his receding silhouette a glance before turning back and looking at his ship with a grimace. Yeah, he really could use a shower. ...And some pain meds. 

✫彡

Long showers are a _Maker-_ send. Din stands under the water until the pain in his brain starts to ebb and fade into something more tolerable... Then sits down in it after he almost passes out from the heat. He knows he probably shouldn’t waste water like that if he can help it, but… If he’s going to a party, with people, he probably shouldn’t smell like the sweat he’s been marinating in for almost a week, and he definitely shouldn’t walk into it with a head throbbing so hard he can hardly think. He’ll pump the ship full of water in the morning and slide the mechanics a few credits for their troubles. 

He gets dressed and sits on his bunk for a bit, feeling the humidity from the refresher hang in the air. This is his last hot shower for probably a long time. His last long-term stop on a planet for probably a much, much longer time. He wasn’t even supposed to stay here for more than two days, maybe three if his bounty turned out to be particularly hard to catch—yet he’s been here for well over a week. 

He won’t _miss_ Kan. He doesn’t really miss places like that; he’s never stuck around enough to really how to. But he’ll miss the distraction of being here, of being able to focus on something else other than the memories that have been haunting him ever since the kid left. He’ll throw himself into his work again, sure, but it’s a lot harder to keep dark thoughts at bay when you’re floating in a pressurized box by yourself for days at a time. 

That is, if he’s by himself—which he tells himself he will be. He should’ve never told the girl that he could help. Even if she somehow ends up tagging along with him based on his far-fetched notion that he might be able to take her to the jedi, it’s a short-term trip. He’ll stop in Arkanis to call his client off and then they’ll be off, looking for whoever the hell might know where the guy is. Maybe he’ll drop her off in Corvus, let Ahsoka help her out, or at least ask her if she knows where the jedi may be. But it’ll be a favor, not anything personal, and after that, he’ll just go back to what he does best.

Bringing back bounties and working alone. 

Din tugs the cape over his shoulders, setting it into place. One last arrangement, and he’ll be back doing what he always does. He can push through one little party. If anything, he can just slip away and feign not feeling well. But he has to go. They want to say goodbye, and it feels odd to deny them that after allowing them to take care of him for so long. 

He reaches the Harriks’ residence right after sunset. The house is alive with chatter, and down by the garden, floating lights illuminate well-dressed party guests. Definitely a more high-class affair than the summer solstice celebration—but this time, as he enters, he’s greeted with friendly smiles as opposed to judgmental stares. He nods in greeting awkwardly and exits the foyer.

“Mando!” Gunmar greets, standing by the staircase that leads down into the garden. He looks intact enough, but his face is scarred. He straightens out. “How are you feeling? How’s the skull?” He raps his knuckles against his own head for emphasis before offering him a hand. 

“Alright,” Din replies, taking his hand. “How are you?” 

Gunmar raises a hand to the fresh scar on his cheek. “Oh, it’s fine, really,” he assures him. “Doesn’t even hurt. The doctor patched me up real quick.” 

“And your son?” Din asks.

“Great.” Gunmar grins at him. Peering over the railing, he says, “He’s down there, somewhere, talking to his fiancée.” He glances back. “He’s going to be happy to see you. He kept asking about you while you were out. Without your help, he would’ve never been able to have a real, safe wedding with Jovi.” 

Behind Gunmar, on the ground floor of the garden, there’s a flurry of movement and music playing. “Glad to be of service,” Din says. “I was actually looking for Leys. He really wanted me to come.” 

“I think he’s in the garden, too,” Gunmar notes. “We’re having supper soon. I know you can’t eat with us, but we’d love it if you joined us at our table.” 

Din nods and an easy smile breaks across Gunmar’s face. “Great. Supper should be in half an hour.” 

He spends the greater part of the half hour talking to Gunmar. He tells Din about his family’s involvement with the Empire: how his father was swept into commandership and how despite the money and the glory his family got from his father’s service, all it did was make him resentful. His father was absent, like most military fathers tend to be, and when he was home, he spent most of his time recanting the splendor of imperial power. Not the most supportive environment to grow up in. Gunmar was raised primarily by his mother, who hated war and everything that came with it. In turn, Gunmar grew up to be a pacifist, but one who was not willing to let himself or the people he cared about be pushed around.

He tells Din the story that Jovi had briefly mentioned the other day: that when his father forced him to enlist, he willfully failed out of basic training. His superiors were irate. Much to his father's chagrin, he came back to town a few short weeks later and commenced to be even _more_ of a pacifist—or at least anti-war. He was well known in town, it turns out, for ridiculing any young men who decided to enlist in the Empire. He'd beat them up for even mentioning the idea of enlisting. 

“Did you and Leys grow up together?” Din asks, dancing around the obvious question. 

Gunmar snorts. “We did,” he says. “And I did bully him for enlisting, if that’s what you were asking. I thought it was a huge mistake. I knew he was better than that.” He shrugs faintly. “But you know how it is. He was too stubborn to listen to me. He had to learn his own way.” 

“Everyone knew?” Din asks. 

“Oh, the whole town knew,” Gunmar replies. “At least, everyone who was around when he first enlisted. When he got back, he told us he had to leave his old life behind and that if anyone asked for a _Kemp Alrick_ , he was dead. Pretty smart of him to make a fake name. I didn’t think that the Empire would be stupid enough to believe it.” 

_Maybe they didn’t_ , Din thinks, but there’s no way. Too many imperial officers saw him over the course of their occupation here. If he was really on the Empire’s list, then he would’ve been dead a long time ago. Which still doesn’t explain why there’s a bounty on his head. 

“There weren’t a lot of loyalists left here when he came back,” Gunmar admits. He leans back against the doorframe. “So it was an easy secret to keep. Hell, we didn’t even have a single young man enlist until just a few years ago, right before the Empire fell.” He clears his throat and looks down. “Well, uh… When we thought it fell.” 

A silence falls over them. Down in the garden, there’s a chorus of light laughter. Scratching his head, Gunmar asks, “So Mando. Are there a lot of them out there?” 

“Enough,” Din replies. These people don’t gain anything from not being told the truth. “Enough to be a concern. But you’re safe here. At least for now.” 

Gunmar lets out a heavy breath. “I see.” 

Leys’ voice rings out down below. The chatter ceases to a minimum. “Well, it looks like supper’s ready,” Gunmar says. He nudges Din. “The food’s divine. Our town baker made much of it. I’ll have Opal package some to take along with you in the morning. But come. Tonight we celebrate.” 

As they head downstairs, the servants approach long tables already lined with guests, arms full of dishes. Even through the helmet, Din can smell the food they’re carrying out. Gunmar greets a few of the servants before approaching a table towards the far corner of the garden, where his family and the Harriks are getting settled. 

“Mando,” Leys greets. Once Din is close enough, he reaches for his hand and clasps it in greeting. “Glad you could make it. Come. Sit.” He gestures towards the seat beside Adriam, who greets Din with a short wave. A few bruises pepper his jaw, but other than that, he looks just fine. 

Jovi, perched at the end of the table, offers him a small smile of greeting. Din hasn’t seen her in almost two days. While he was bedridden, the more time passed, the more she relaxed. She took great care in coming to visit him—along with Opal, of course, who made an effort to take his recovery under her wing. They’d sit and talk (or Din would sit and listen, really, because she’s a talker) for a few minutes while the doctor came to check on him or Opal brought him food. The guilt she didn’t need to feel finally dissipated the more he recovered. Yet now, sitting beside her, she seems a little too poised, a little less relaxed. He wonders if she’s spoken to her father yet, or if she even will at all. 

Din settles in between the two kids. Leys sits down at the other end of the table, with Opal and Gunmar sitting across from Din. 

“The first course is divine, Gunmar,” Leys explains. “I was just telling everyone. Barellian cheese and barbabee honey on roasted crackers, along with some fruits the baker collected from his garden.” As if on cue, the servants arrive to their table, placing intricate plates in front of each of them. 

“I’m okay,” Din says to the servant placing a plate in front of him. 

The servant flushes vivid pink underneath her honeyed skin and retracts the plate in surprise. “Oh—yes. Sorry, sir,” she says. She tucks a curly strand of hair behind her ear. Gesturing at his empty cup, she says, “Would you like a drink?” 

Din shakes his head. “Thank you.” 

Sheepishly, the servant nods. Her eyes glaze over and she stays standing, stuck in a daze. The other servants call her to attention. Quickly, she follows them servants back into the house, still peeking shyly over her shoulder. 

At the end of the table, Leys chuckles. “You want a Kanian wife, Mando? Seems like you got some interested parties.” Beside Leys, Gunmar laughs, taking a long swig of his wine, while Opal chuckles politely. 

It’s a joke, Din knows that, but it still sits with him weirdly. The girl looked young, years older than even Jovi. And the last thing on Din’s mind is getting married at all, much less to a child. 

“Mandalorians don’t get married, dad,” Jovi points out flatly, before Din can make any sort of comment. She nods towards the house, where the servant disappeared to. Clear disapproval spreads across her face. “And Marza just turned seventeen.” 

“Old enough,” Opal pipes up. She dabs the corners of her lips with her napkin. Nudging her husband’s arm, she says, “We were seventeen when I was betrothed to Gunmar. You and Adriam have merely been afforded a little more time of being children.” 

“Dad,” Jovi suddenly says. She pushes her chair back and it scrapes loudly against the stones, earning the attention of nearby guests. Standing up, she asks, “Can I talk to you about something for a second?” 

Everyone at the table pauses. Opal and Gunmar exchange confused glances and at the end of the table, Leys coughs. “Mm.” He takes a sip of his drink then dabs the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Putting it back down, he lightly says, “We’re already talking, darling. Can it wait?” 

She manages out a short “No.” Smoothing out her skirt and letting out a sharp breath, she says, “It’s important.” She offers a weak smile to the others in condolence. “Sorry.”

Leys shoots Din a questioning look, though he knows he won’t get a reply through his stoic helmet. Shaking his head and sighing, Leys obliges. He stands up and places his napkin back down neatly on the table. Clearing his throat, he smiles politely at Adriam and his family and says, “Excuse me. We’ll just be a moment.” 

He grabs Jovi by the arm and they disappear towards the end of the courtyard. Din directs his attention to the empty plate in front of him while Opal and Gunmar fall into hushed whispers. Beside him, Adriam shifts uncomfortably.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Mando.” Din pretends to not hear him. It’s not until the kid whisper-seethes “Mando,” that he finally turns. He gestures towards the end of the garden, where Jovi and Leys are in the middle of intense conversation. Leaning towards Din, he asks, “Do you know what that’s about?” 

Din shifts. “She’s your fiancée,” he retorts. “I should be asking you.” The kid’s face pales. Swallowing visibly, he nods before settling back down into his seat. 

Beside Gunmar, Opal leans in to whisper something to him. He shakes his head. Lowly, he says, “No, I don’t think that’s it.” But Opal doesn’t look particularly convinced. Gunmar sighs before turning to Din. “Mando, uh… Not that we expect you to know much, but…” He clears his throat. “Did you happen to see anything… romantic happen between that officer and Jovi?” 

“What?” Din spits it out before he can even hide the surprise in his tone. 

Glancing back at the garden, then back towards Din again, Gunmar admits, “We’re just a little worried, is all. Leys told us about your run-in with that officer back on the base, and how he claimed to know Jovi. We want to make sure she wasn’t… involved with him.” He wrings his hands uncomfortably, clearly not speaking of his own volition. Beside him, Opal nods encouragingly. And Adriam looks like he’s about to shrink into his chair, staring blankly ahead and looking several years his junior. 

Din resists the urge to scoff. Their future daughter-in-law almost died and they’re worried about her purity. This backwards _fucking_ planet. “He tried to kill her,” he replies. “I don’t think she wanted to be _involved_ with him at all.” 

“We just want what’s best for Adriam,” Opal interjects. Her eyes crinkle sadly. “We’re… worried she might not have the best intentions anymore.” 

Din turns to Adriam, but the kid is withdrawn, eyes still glued to the scene unfolding at the end of the garden. He nudges him with his elbow, subtly, trying to garner a response, but he doesn’t flinch. If it weren’t for the visible clenching of his jaw, Din wouldn’t even be sure if he felt it at all. But he definitely did. He’s just choosing to be silent. 

_Maker_. Din shouldn’t be the one defending his fiancée. He barely even knows her, but this kid _grew up_ with her and he’s about to _marry_ her—he should be the first to jump up and defend her honor. And from how sure of himself he seemed when Din met him, he shouldn’t want his parents to speak for him, either. He’s even greener than he thought. He’s a child. A child that’s clearly not ready to marry a woman if he’s not even willing to defend her. 

Din bites his tongue to avoid saying anything he might regret. Turning back to the kid’s parents, he simply says, “I don’t think that should be a concern.” The girl was willing to give up her freedom to marry a man she doesn’t even love and make her people happy. She didn’t have anything to do with that officer, Din knows that. That wasn’t the look of someone who’s in love or feeling regret. That was the look of someone who is absolutely terrified. And love doesn’t do that. 

Opal seems unconvinced. She and her husband spare each other a look. Breathing out sharply, she lifts her tea cup to her lips and takes a slow sip. “Well,” she says, putting the tea cup back down. “Never the matter. Our doctor’s been testing new brides’ purities for decades now. We’ll just…” She swallows, smiling politely up at Din. “Have her visit him soon, as is tradition.” 

Din chokes. Quickly, Opal mends, “It’s not invasive. It’s—it’s tradition. Every young bride in our culture goes through these tests. It’s to ensure the sanctity of marriage.” 

Din’s heard this before: virginity tests done on particularly conservative planets. He’s met a few women who’ve undergone them—other people functioning outside of the law, mostly, who’ve rebelled against the trauma of their upbringings enough to discuss them—and the overwhelming description has been _violating_. And the ones who didn’t pass, for one reason or another… didn’t fare so well. Social exclusion. Banishment. Never to live their same lives. Never to see their families again. 

It’s… not Din’s business to know whether or not Jovi would pass that test. But those things are faulty, and they can ruin someone’s life. All for something as stupid as fifteen seconds with their new husband in a marital bed. 

Which this woman shouldn’t be concerned about. She went through this process herself not more than fifteen, twenty years ago. How should she be so desperate to subject another girl to a fate like that?

A few choice words come to mind when Din opens his mouth to reply. In circumstances like these, it’s rarely his business, and he can just grimace and move on. But he knows this girl, sort of, and while he’d like to shove her future in-laws’ shitty words up their—

He just… he can’t act reckless. He’s been alone with her, and they know that. They’ve acted odd about it enough. So if he gets too offended at the absolute horror they’re about to unleash on this poor girl, they might think something else is up. Defending her honor is not worth unleashing hell on her in the long run. Especially if she’s never able to leave this place.

“She’s a good kid,” is all Din is able to say. 

Across the table, Gunmar swallows visibly. He’s not the one calling the shots here. Sympathy—and a twinge of guilt—flickers across his weathered features. “Yes she is.” 

Leys suddenly approaches the table. He grabs his napkin and dabs his forehead, face faintly red and glazed-over. 

“Is everything alright?” Din asks. 

Leys smiles forcefully, looking over the rest of the table. “We’re fine,” he replies dismissively. “Jovi just needed some fresh air.” As if on cue, Jovi appears. He turns, mouth open to speak to her, but she rushes past in a flurry of white fabric and boots against cobblestone. The entire table watches her in shock as she makes her way past the other party guests and disappears inside of the house. 

He said no. He _must_ have. Guilt settles into Din’s chest. He should’ve never suggested that he could take her. It was too much of a long shot, and all it did was get her into trouble. 

“Is she backing out?” Opal asks once everyone’s regained their bearings. 

“What? No!” Leys replies quickly. “She’s ecstatic for this. You know she’s practically been a part of your family her entire life.” A lie, and Din can tell it burns him—the denial. Shaking his head, he says, “I’m just… not particularly good at these marriage conversations with Jovi. Her mother would’ve been so much better.” 

Opal’s interrogating gaze softens. She reaches out and clutches his hands in hers. Gently, she says, “I understand. I’m sure it’s difficult, not having her around during all of this. But… she would be proud of Jovi.” The words sound forced coming out of her mouth after all of her accusation, but deep down, Din thinks she means it. 

Leys visibly swallows. “Thank you, Opal,” he says. He retracts his hands and looks towards the house, in the direction that Jovi disappeared off to. He lets out a hard breath. “Well, I hate to leave you in the middle of the first course, but I think I need to go find my daughter.” 

Opal nods. “We understand.” 

Din takes that as his opportunity to leave too. He’s not sure how much more of this talk he can take. He stands up, pushing his chair back in and earning a look from the rest of the table. 

“I should go too,” he says. “I need to start making preparations for the morning.” Which is not a lie, not really: he has to make sure everything’s set up before he leaves, since he’s leaving on Kan’s day of rest and the mechanics won’t be around to fix anything for him. 

“But you just got here,” Opal remarks, furrowing her brow. “And Leys, you haven’t even touched your first course yet—” 

Gunmar puts a hand over his wife’s, stilling her. “He has a long trip ahead of him,” he interrupts. He nods towards Din knowingly. “We understand.” 

Opal opens her mouth to speak but closes it again. She nods reluctantly. Beside Din, Adriam remains in his seat, still silent. Yet Din can feel his eyes boring into the side of his helmet. 

Gunmar stands up, his wife following suit. “Well,” he says, extending a hand across the table for Din to shake. “It was nice to meet you, Mando. You’ll always have a place to stay here.” 

Din takes his hand and shakes it. His grasp is firm. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he replies. 

“It’s the least we could do,” Opal says. When Din retracts his hand, she takes her husband’s and intertwines it with hers. “Fly safe.” 

“Alright.” Leys clasps his hands together. He nods towards the house. “Mando, I’ll walk you out so I can go find my daughter.” 

Din nods. Leys begins his ascent towards the house and Din follows shortly behind, weaving through the people chatting by the stairs. Inside, the air is warm and there’s a smell of freshly baked goods, probably a second round of cooking for the guests outside. Din’s going to miss that: good food that isn’t ration packs or the occasional state bread loaf he gets while stopping for fuel.

Leys stops in the foyer. He peers upwards, towards the bedrooms upstairs. Din stands awkwardly, unsure of whether or not he should leave. 

“Thank you for inviting me tonight,” he says as a subtle precursor to his departure. “You’re all very hospitable, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” 

“Mm.” Leys half-ascends the stairs, peering around the hallway, but doesn’t seem to find anything. Coming back down, he says, “Mando, before you leave.” His tone is calm, but serious, more serious than he’d heard him speak since the day of the attack on the base. He glances back at the kitchen, where the baker still seems to be cooking, and lowers his voice. Matter-of-factly, he says, “I don’t appreciate you trying to lure my daughter away.” 

Din nearly chokes again. “I’m not luring your daughter away,” he says quickly. “I just told her about a place—”

“I don’t care,” Leys says. He’s shorter than Din, but he’s stout, and his expression is solemn as he steps an arm’s length close to him. His mouth presses into a tight line before he pats Din on the shoulder, roughly. “We’re friends. Let’s keep it that way.” 

Din swallows. It’s clear that this isn’t up for discussion. “I’ll be leaving at dawn,” he says, changing the subject. “I don’t imagine I’ll be seeing you when I leave.” 

Leys shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so,” he says. “I’ll be taking tomorrow to spend some much needed time with my daughter.” He puts emphasis on the last word. Not particularly malicious, but warningly. He likes Din. He just doesn’t trust him. Shaking Din’s hand, he says, “But I hope you fly safe, friend. It’s a long flight to Arkanis.”

“Thank you.” Din takes a step back. He looks up at the second story, where he imagines Jovi might be somewhere, crying off the effects of her father’s rejection. He wishes he could do something, apologize for giving her false hope, but after what her father just said, it’s probably best that he just leave anyway. So he does. He gives Leys a nod, turns on his heel, and leaves the building before any other threats can be made. 

It’s easier this way, and as Din gets back onto his ship and begins to fiddle with the controls, he tells himself that. Taking that girl under his wing would mean committing to weeks of searching for someone to lead him to the jedi. Ahsoka would probably know—if she was still on Corvus. If she wasn’t, then that would be a whole other wild gorak chase: a chase he didn’t have the time or energy for. He did enough of that with the kid. He doesn’t need to do that with someone else. 

Most importantly, he doesn’t need to get attached. No—not like that, but in the sense that there’s still a void the kid used to fill and hunting quarries keeps him busy enough to ignore it, sure, but the longer he stays here the more he wants to help her. She’s _like him_ , she can do things, and it’s probably just a crazy coincidence, but Din doesn’t like coincidences. Not when they make him feel like he’s obligated to help someone. 

Because he’s not obligated to help her. She’s here, and she’s going to stay here, and she’s going to live a very comfortable life. Not an exciting one, sure, but no one’s promised that, and her future is a hell of a lot more pleasant than that of other people whose planets have been occupied. 

So he just shakes it off. Distracts himself by topping the water tank off and leaving a few credits for the mechanics to find in their toolbox when they get back to work. Starts to prepare himself for several more months of solitude with the occasional pit-stop in between bounties. He’s good at that, at the repetition of working alone. No one to slow him down and no one to get in his way. 

He works on the ship for what feels like hours: fumbling with little things, distracting himself with the monotony of preparing himself for departure in the morning. By the time he’s done, the moon is low in the sky and the sounds of the festivities from the other end of the valley have all died out. It’s quiet, with only the sounds of the waves breaking below and creatures chirping in the tall grass breaking through the air. The sun will be rising in a few short hours, and he’ll be on his way. 

The ship’s proximity alert feature breaks the silence. Din glances at the monitor overhead—a small blip 50 yards out. Probably just an animal. The feature tends to be oversensitive sometimes, and tonight probably isn’t an exception. But the spot doesn’t drop off from the radar. He watches it on-screen, slowly approaching, before realizing it’s coming directly towards him. 

Not an animal. Animals don’t like to get close to ships. And if they do, they’re probably not nice ones. The last time an animal charged his ship, he had to empty a whole blaster clip into a dwarf rathtar. 

He approaches the ramp with his hand ghosting the blaster on his hip. The moonlight’s obscured by the ship, shrouding the hill ahead of him in darkness. There’s a gentle rain falling that hides the landscape from view even more. He switches on his night vision and just barely makes out a figure descending the hill through the falling mist. A human figure. A human figure in a  _ dress _ , carrying so much stuff that they can barely walk. 

Din would've preferred the dwarf rathar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this story, you should check out Princes Don't Wear Beskar, a short spin-off I wrote from Jovi's POV.


	9. The Plea Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jovi pleads for Din to take her with him—and an unexpected visitor makes things a lot trickier.

Jovi stills once she spots Din at the top of the ramp. Slowly, she lifts one of the bags in her hand. “You… you forgot your food,” she offers dumbly. 

Din snatches the bag away from her. “You aren’t supposed to be here.” 

She visibly swallows. Shaking her head, she admits, “I know. I—I waited until my dad was asleep. He thinks I’m still in bed.” 

“What are you doing here?” Din asks. 

Jovi glances back over the hillside where she came from. In the ship’s dim light, her face glistens with dew. Her hair’s a mess, and her usually pristine attire is mudstained—probably from dragging so much stuff across the hillside. The dress is clinging to her small frame, white fabric growing translucent from all of the moisture. Din looks away before he can see anything. Hesitantly, she says, “I want to come with you.” 

Din sighs. She’s carrying enough things to fill his entire storage, and he doesn’t want to kidnap her. But she’s made it all the way here and he doesn’t want her alone out here in the middle of the night. He nods roughly towards the ship. “Inside. Now.” 

She wastes no time in lifting her belongings out of the grass and following him inside. He can hear her short breaths of exertion behind her as she lugs the bags up the ramp. “Thank you, stranger,” she breathes out. “I was worried you’d left early, and I—”

Din turns on his heel. “I didn’t say you could come with me,” Din interrupts. “I just told you to come in.” 

Jovi stops in the middle of the ship. She drops her bags beside her. Behind her, there’s a thick trail of mud and grass leading inside, something Din will definitely have to clean up before he leaves. Her face is glistening even more now, eyes red under the fluorescent lighting of the ship, and Din realizes it’s not just dew—it’s tears. Tears she must have been crying the whole time she walked here. 

“I can’t go back there,” she suddenly says.

“I can carry your things back,” Din says. “Your dad doesn’t have to know you left.” 

He starts to reach for one of her bags, but she puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He straightens out, stilling at the contact, and looks back over at her. She shakes her head again and Din can tell she’s trying not to cry, but she’s right on the cusp again. Weakly, she pleads, “Please, Mando. I’m mortified.” 

Din’s never seen her cry before, not like this. But the betrayal written on her delicate features is as clear as day. Swallowing, he says, “He told you.” 

Jovi’s face pales. She takes a step back, lips parted. “What?” 

_Shit_ . He overstepped. Her father hasn’t spoken to her yet. And Din’s about to make this a whole lot worse. He winces. “ _Dank farrik_. I thought he told you.” 

Jovi eyes him like he’s crazy. Shaking her head, she says, “I’m talking about my father not letting me come with you. And Adriam’s family thinking I’m some… whore. What are you talking about?” 

Din turns away, trying to calculate his next move. He screwed up. Badly. He thought he’d been doing good for them—going away so abruptly. All he did was make it worse. 

“Mando.” Jovi tugs on his arm. Then again, harder, until he turns to face her. She clutches onto him and pulls him towards her, staring up into the dark abscess of his helmet. Insistently, she asks, “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

Din could lie to her if he needed to. Tell her some fabricated story about what her father told him: something that wouldn’t ruin her perception of her father forever. He’s lied to people before. He’s good at that. It’s part of the job description of being a bounty hunter. 

Leys told him that it felt impossible to lie to Jovi, because every time he did it, he had to look into those big hazel eyes and keep the truth she deserved away from her. Din understands it now. Standing here so close to her, it feels like he’s about to commit a heinous crime by not telling her the truth. And he can’t do it. He doesn’t have it in him, not after what he knows the girl’s gone through. 

Jovi swallows audibly in front of him. “Tell me,” she says softly. 

Outside, the rain picks up. An isolated storm in the middle of Jiloh’s dry season. The rain splatters against the exposed parts of the ramp. Din tries to focus on that and not the guilty feeling in his chest. 

“He was my quarry,” he finally admits. 

Jovi takes a step back. “No,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief. She inhales sharply. “No, he’s—he’s just a mayor. Why would you need to kill a mayor?” 

“He wasn’t just a mayor,” Din says. “He was an imperial general. A deserter.” 

A sound catches in Jovi’s throat. She takes another step back, and then another step, until she’s stumbling over the bags she left behind her. “What?” she asks. Then, louder, more desperately, “No.”

The crack in her voice reaches the very depths of Din’s soul. Swallowing, he adds, “He enlisted before you were born. But he didn’t… he didn’t want to hurt you. Or anyone. That’s why he deserted.” 

The life drains from Jovi’s face. Weakly, she says, “It’s too late for that.” She lets out a slow, shaky breath. Not looking up, she says, “Are you sure?” 

Din nods. “I’m sure.” 

Jovi’s lips curl in distaste. She sucks in another sharp breath and settles down on the mess of bags beside her, the mess of stained, soaked fabric she calls her dress spilling out around her. She keeps her eyes trained on the floor with her arms wrapped around herself in comfort. Tears start to spill out of her eyes and Din looks away. 

The downpour quickens, until the sound of the rain against the ship is all that Din can hear. Below him, Jovi’s shoulders begin to tremble with silent sobs. He reaches out, tentatively, placing a hand on her shoulder. She lets him touch her for a moment, still sobbing, before clutching onto his wrist. 

She stands up. Pointing a finger at her, she manages out, “You’re lying.” 

Din retracts his hand and raises both in innocence. “I’m not,” he says. “He said he’d tell you. I thought he did.” 

“No.” Her voice is raw from crying. Jabbing her finger at his chestplate, she says, “You just wanted me to come with you.” Din steps backwards and she steps closer to him, backing him towards the side of the ship. He raises his hands in defense. 

“That’s not true,” Din manages, backing up more. “I wanted to help you.” 

Jabbing her finger into his chestplate again, Jovi snaps, “No. You wanted to take me away from my family. From my fiancé. From my home.” She continues to hit his chestplate again and again, tears rolling down her cheeks more each time. “You’re lying, stranger. You’re lying.”

Each blow presses the back of Din’s armor into his broken collarbone. It’s uncomfortable, not painful, but instinctively, he still wants to stop her, to keep her from potentially injuring him any further. But she’s not hurting him. She’s not even mad at him. She knows he’s telling the truth, he can hear it with every angry cry. 

Just as Din thinks she’s about to wail on his armor again, she pulls him close, buries her face into the exposed crook of his neck, and sobs. Din freezes. His hands hover in the air above her, unsure of where to put them or even what to do. Din’s not good at comforting people. He’s never really had to be. But she’s clutching onto him so tightly and sobbing into him so _hard_ that he can’t help but hold her. His good arm snakes around her, tentatively, holding her against his chest. 

Jovi trembles in his embrace, letting out choked sobs and mumbling words in Jilohivan that he can’t understand. Din’s hand lifts to her head in spite of itself, running through her loose curls, soaked-through and cold. Her tiny frame is just as frigid against him. Beskar isn’t exactly warm, so Din wonders if this is really helping much at all, but she doesn’t object. She just stays there, curled up against him, holding on and crying so hard Din thinks she might collapse. 

“You can come,” Din says after what feels like hours of them standing there. 

Jovi sniffs. Pulling away, she asks, “Really?” 

Din swallows. Despite his better judgement, he nods. “Really.” 

Relief spreads across Jovi’s tear-stained face. She pulls him into another tight embrace, burying her face in his shoulder again. “Thank you,” she mumbles into his shirt. Her fingers wrap around part of his cape. 

With anyone else, Din probably would’ve shouldered away from them already. His friends know better than to hug him like that—he’s cold, not used to affection unless he’s too weak to object—and anyone who _isn’t_ his friend knows hugging a random Mandalorian would flat out be a death sentence. But he doesn’t… completely hate her embrace. Probably because it’s mostly far and few between but mostly because the last two times she’s touched him, she’s needed it more than him. And Din’s bad at denying people the relief they need. Especially when he hasn’t felt a hug like that in a long time. 

“Get the hell away from my daughter.” 

Jovi stills against Din. She pulls away from his embrace, eyes wide. Behind her, Leys stands at the top of the ramp, blaster raised. His hair is soaked and he is angry, angrier than Din has ever seen him. 

And _Maker,_ does this look bad. Din raises his hands, up and away from any bad idea Leys could get about what just happened. Nothing was happening. Nothing was _going_ to happen. But with the bags strewn across the ship, and the way they were standing…

There’s no need for Din to pull his blaster out. Things already look bad enough. 

Jovi steps in front of Din defensively. “Dad,” she breathes out, voice shaking. “Dad, it’s fine. Put the blaster down.” 

“It’s _fine_?” Leys barks. “That’s funny, because this seems very much _not_ fine.” He points his blaster at Din, lips curling into a disapproving scowl. His finger isn’t on the trigger—he knows better than that—but it’s hovering, ready for a fight. “You know, Mando. I thought you were a good guy.” His lip twitches. “I should’ve known better than to think you just wanted to teach my daughter how to fight.” 

“It’s not what you think,” Din manages, but Jovi cuts him short. 

“He didn’t force me to do anything,” Jovi barks back. “Put the gun down. I came here because I wanted to. He didn’t even know I was coming.”

Leys is unconvinced. He roughly gestures towards the ground with his blaster, urging his daughter forward. “Get over here, Jovi,” he orders. “Now. I’m not messing around.” There’s desperation in his voice—a fearful hesitation behind the barking orders. He thinks he’s going to lose her. 

Jovi’s mouth puckers bitterly. She balls her hand into a fist, angry, but retracts it just as quickly. For a moment, Din thinks she’s about to lose control: do the same thing she did to him, only a lot angrier. But she does something worse. Shaking her head, she snaps, “You’re ordering me around now, _general_? Or was I too much of a child to realize you have been all along?” 

Leys’ face turns ashen, paler than the white linen on Jovi’s dress. His lips part in recognition. Putting his blaster down, he tries to reply, but nothing comes out. The sound of the rain outside fills the air again—steady, hard. 

Jovi scoffs. “You’re speechless now? So was I.” Tears well up in her eyes again. Shaking her head, she says, “You should have told me.” 

Leys takes a weak step forward and Jovi scrambles backwards. “I couldn’t lose you like I lost your sister,” he manages. 

She shakes her head in disbelief. “She left us _both,_ dad,” she spits. “Her leaving wasn’t some malicious plan to hurt you. It hurt us both. Stop using her leaving and mom’s death as an excuse to keep secrets from me.” 

“What was I supposed to do?” Leys asks. “Tell you the truth? That I was some… monster that orchestrated people’s deaths?” He sighs. “Jovi, you would’ve hated me.” 

“That’s your issue,” Jovi spits. “You make decisions for me, _every_ decision, without considering what I might think. What I want.” 

Leys sets his jaw. Stepping forward again, he starts, “If this is about your betrothal to Adriam—”

Jovi scoffs. “It’s never been about Adriam. I—I don’t care about getting married, dad,” she says. She lifts her hand in the air, showing the emerald ring still on her finger. “I’d do it in a heartbeat if it meant making you happy—I was _going_ to do it in a heartbeat. It’s not about him or about marriage or our culture or anything. It’s about you protecting me so much you think my free will is a threat.”

Leys’ expression softens. He takes a step back. “Jovi,” he says, softer. “Your free will isn’t a threat.” 

Jovi gestures towards Din. “You were willing to get into a fight with a man that helped us save our planet just because you thought he was taking me away,” she notes. “Or corrupting me. Which, by the way, he hasn’t done either. Just in case you and Adriam’s family were unsure.” She eyes Din up and down and crosses her arms protectively across her chest. 

Leys bristles but doesn’t reply. He probably did have that conversation with the kid’s family—Opal _must_ have accused Din of something. She was kind to him outside of his interactions with Jovi, but any time she saw them together, it’s like she was waiting for something unseemly to happen. He peers past them, into the cockpit, before letting out a sigh. “You’re making a mistake, Jovi.” 

“No,” Jovi snaps. “You made a mistake, dad. A lot of them.” 

Leys cocks his head. “Maybe,” he admits. “But not with you girls. My only mistake was letting your sister leave when she did, and I won’t be making that mistake again.” He crosses his arms with the blaster still dangling from his hand. 

An uncharacteristically dry laugh escapes Jovi’s lips. She’s angry, but there are tears springing up in her eyes again, threatening to escape. “You know what? That we can agree on,” she spits. “You let her leave me here, alone, with a liar who made sure I spent my entire life pretending to be something I’m not.” 

A deafening silence falls over the ship. Leys’ mouth hangs open, but nothing comes out. The blaster’s still in his hands, though, and Din doesn’t want to get into a gunfight—not for this, not over her. Breathing raggedly, Jovi takes a step back and casts a weary glance in Din’s direction. 

Outside, the downpour reduces to a drizzle. The sound of slow, heavy water droplets hitting the ramp permeates the air. Din doesn’t move or speak because he doesn’t know what he could say. This isn’t his fight. It’s theirs. And as much as he loves having control over situations, this is one he very much has no jurisdiction in. 

Leys suddenly exhales. Shaking his head, he tucks his blaster into his pants and approaches the cockpit. 

Din holds a protective hand out, stopping Leys in his tracks. “Hey,” he says warningly. 

Leys casts Din a glare. He steps past Din and into the cockpit. Din follows him, questioningly, to find him fumbling with the navigator. 

“What are you doing?” Din asks.

Leys doesn’t raise his gaze from the screen. He types in a string of numbers with proficiency. The map that materializes is nothing that Din’s ever seen before. There are no planets on-screen—in fact, nothing recognizable is on-screen at all. It’s all uncharted territory, lightyears away from the outskirts of the Outer Rim. 

He turns to Leys. “What is this?” 

“A map.” Leys lifts his hand dismissively. Pacing into the main hold, he says, “To your Jedi friend.” 

Din stills. “You know him?” he asks. 

“What?” Jovi shoulders past Din into the cockpit and looks at the screen. Her eyebrows furrow. Turning back to her father, she asks, “What is this?” 

Leys steps forward, wringing his hands. “Not another secret, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says. “Just something you don’t remember.” He looks down guiltily. “I didn’t make you hide your abilities because I wanted to. I didn’t want you to hide them at all. You were special.”

“I thought the Jedi were a myth,” he admits. “They’d lived here long ago, back when our ancestors first carved the town out of the cliffside. But that was a millenia ago. Long enough ago to be dismissed as a myth. Then you… you started doing things. Things your mother and I couldn’t comprehend.” He shakes his head. “I’d heard about them. Whispering amongst the ranks. The Jedi were real, and I realized that every story they told linked up with what I saw in you. I was terrified. There were… there were still loyalists in town. I was worried that if they saw what you could do, they’d take you away. Kill you. Hurt you. So I hid you away. And I thought that was the end of it. I thought I’d kept you safe.”

And Din… Din really can’t blame him for that. For forcing Jovi to hide for her own sake. If Din could’ve done that, hidden Grogu away from the world and protected him from the horrors he had to witness, he would’ve. The kid might’ve not been lucky enough to camouflage. He was one of a kind. He stuck out like a sore thumb, but Jovi didn’t. She just looks like a girl, and that kept her safe. 

“Until you were sixteen. Do you remember that day?” Leys asks. “The day you broke your mother’s locket?”

Jovi’s lips part. Her hand raises to the chain dangling from her neck, the one Din’s never seen her without. Slowly, she nods. 

“You were so upset,” Leys says softly. “I didn’t know what to do. I told you I could get you another one and I never should have said such a thing, because all I did was make it worse. You’d done such a good job holding back your abilities. After she died, you were strong for us, I know that. But I’d never seen you in as much anguish as I did that day.” 

Guilt flickers in the speckled brown of Jovi’s eyes. She swallows, fingers curling protectively around the broken pendant. Her gaze flickers up to meet Din’s—soft and silent. 

“Mando,” Leys calls, bringing Din’s attention back to him. His lips are pressed into a line. “It was quite a show. Far different from what you saw on the base. I had to tell the townsfolk it was an earthquake.” 

Din doesn’t have to imagine much. He’d seen what the kid was capable of while barely trying. Jovi was powerful, too. And powerful emotions only serve to strengthen these kinds of things. 

Leys sighs. Rubbing his temple, he says, “Two weeks later, he came into town. This… man.” He waves his hand. “Dressed in robes and shrouded in mystery. Not much older than you are now, Jovi. The girls in town were smitten. But he walked through our entire town unaffected and ended up at our doorstep.” 

“I—I don’t remember this,” Jovi interjects. “When was this?” 

Leys’ mouth twitches. “You were at the schoolhouse.” 

Jovi drops her hand from her locket. Huffing, she says, “Of course. I was always at the schoolhouse.”

“Listen,” Leys says warningly. “I’m not going to repeat myself.” His tone is even. Taking a moment to collect himself, he continues, “At first, I thought he was asking for your hand. You were getting older. Nearly of betrothal age. I told him you already had interested suitors and he laughed. He said he wasn’t here to marry you. He was here because you were special. I didn’t know what to do. I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about and he told me I was lying. Then he told me everything.” 

“He was a Jedi,” he says. “He said he’d felt your outburst from across the galaxy and let the force lead him here, to you. The Empire had fallen and it was time for a new Jedi generation, he said.” His brow furrows and he looks tired, more tired than Din has seen him before. “But I didn’t… I didn’t know what to think. He was this… strange man who’d rolled up on our doorstep and told me he wanted to take you away. There were still loyalists living just next door. I’d be stupid if I thought there wouldn’t still be threats to your existence. So I told him no.” 

Jovi’s face softens. “You could’ve—”

“I told him he needed to leave before you returned,” Leys interrupts. “That it was too dangerous and that I couldn’t let him take you away. He understood. He didn’t try to press. He just turned around and left. Then, over his shoulder, he gave me the coordinates. He said that when you were ready, you could meet him there. That he’d take you in and teach you everything you needed to know. Then he was gone. And I was conflicted.”

Leys’ gaze falls on Din. “Mando,” he asks. “Do you have kids?” 

Din shifts. “Something like that,” he says. And he was a _lot_ more similar to Leys’ kid than he knows. 

Leys nods. “Then you understand.” Turning back to Jovi, he says, “I didn’t want you to leave. Ever, really. But something in me knew the truth. One day soon, you would, and I would be a fool if I let you do it in the dark.” 

_He’s letting her go._

Recognition flashes across Jovi’s face. She takes a tentative step forward. “You’re… you’re letting me go?” She glances back at Din. 

Leys doesn’t look like he particularly wants to. But still, he nods, letting out a slow, pained breath. “Yes,” he says. “Jovi, I…”

He can’t finish his sentence, because Jovi is rushing forward, enveloping him in a hug and crushing the breath out of him. Her arms wrap about him and he embraces her back, closing his eyes. Pulling back, he rubs her face and says, “I’ve controlled your entire life to make sure you live the best and longest one you can. But those aren’t my decisions to make. Not anymore.” 

Jovi’s eyes close in relief. A visible weight lifts off her shoulders and she leans into her father’s embrace. “Wait,” she says, opening her eyes again. “But… what about—” 

Leys holds his daughter at arm’s length. Shaking his head, he says, “Don’t worry about that. I’ll tell Adriam and his family.” 

“The truth?” Jovi asks. At the hesitant look on her father’s face, she says, “They’re good people, dad. They’re not going to tell anyone.” 

Leys sucks in a breath. He studies his daughter’s face, lips pursed, before eventually exhaling again. “The truth,” he replies. “I’m not sure how Opal will handle the news, but…” He glances up at his daughter again and stops himself. Shaking his head once more, he says, “I’ll handle it.” 

Jovi pulls her father into another hug—this one tight and grateful. She squeezes her eyes shut. Din takes a step back and watches as she fiddles with the ring on her finger, struggling to pull it off with one hand. She reaches around her father and pulls it off with one fluid movement. When they pull away, she places it in his hand. 

“For Adriam,” she says gently. She takes her bottom lip into her mouth. “Tell him I’m sorry.” 

Her father turns the ring over in his hand. Wistfulness fills his gaze. It’s a beautiful ring, really. One that Jovi would look beautiful wearing as the kid’s wife in the future. Just not now. Looking back up, he says, “Okay. But I do have conditions.” 

Jovi’s shoulders drop. Nodding, she says, “Okay. Tell me.” 

“You’ll come back,” Leys says. “In a year. You’re still my daughter. This is still your home. And you’re still betrothed.” 

Jovi’s lips part. She wants to object, Din can tell, but she doesn’t. Instead, she nods slowly and breathes out, “Okay.” 

“And you.” Leys turns to face Din. “You’re going to take my daughter straight to this place and see to it that she’s safe. Consider that your favor returned.” His firm tone drops. Softer, he says, “Please.” 

Din steps forward. He holds a hand out, which Leys accepts. “I will,” Din replies. 

Leys nods, keeping his eyes trained on Din’s helmet. Letting go of his hand, he says, “I know you will.” He steps back and looks over the ship thoughtfully. 

Leys probably hasn’t been on a ship in years—not since his days with the Empire. He looks over the ship with so much wistfulness that if the circumstances were different, Din would offer to take him with them. Take him on a ride somewhere. Let him help see his daughter to her new life. But he knows better than to ask. He has people to tend to and a town to lead. 

“You should go,” Leys says after a moment of silence. He steps back and nods towards the cockpit. “Before the sun rises. It’ll look better if they don’t realize you left at first, Jovi.” 

Beside him, Jovi’s eyes begin to water again. She sniffs, wiping her eyes and nodding hesitantly. “Okay. You’re probably right.” 

Leys’ gaze softens. He reaches forward and envelops his daughter in another tight embrace. He holds her, eyes squeezed shut, for a long few moments. Din knows the drill; he busies himself with things in the cockpit, giving them the space they need so he and the girl can depart. Their conversation falls to a hushed murmur and Din makes an effort to tune it out. It’s their moment. 

Back in the hold, Jovi speaks louder again. “Okay. I love you, dad.”

“I love you too,” Leys says. “Mando?” 

Din turns right as they pull away from their embrace. Leys’ eyes are glazed-over—subtly, enough to where Din can pretend he doesn’t notice. He nods at him in farewell. 

“Take care of her,” he says. 

Din nods back. He doesn’t reply, he doesn’t really know how to, but he knows that’s enough. He’ll take care of her. Mandalorians don’t break promises. 

Leys grabs his daughter by the shoulders and plants a kiss on her forehead. Jovi looks up at him, eyes big and watery, as he rubs her cheek and says, “I’m going to go now. Be safe.”

“Okay,” she says tightly.

Leys nods. He starts to make his way down the ramp. He casts one more look at his daughter, standing arms folded around herself in the center of the ship, before disappearing into the early morning rain. 

Jovi stares into the darkness behind him for long after he leaves. Din doesn’t disturb her, instead busying himself with turning the ship on and preparing for departure. Once everything’s ready to go, he returns to the hold and crosses his arms.

“You ready to go?” he asks. 

Slowly, Jovi turns. There are still tears in her eyes, but she blinks them away. “Yeah,” she says. “Sorry.”

Din shakes his head dismissively. “It’s okay. Put your stuff under that net,” Din says, nodding towards a pile of boxes tucked under a protective net. “To keep it from sliding around during takeoff.” 

Jovi sniffs again. Nodding, she obliges, taking her belongings and tucking them neatly under the net.She approaches the copilot’s seat and settles down. Shakily, she reaches for the seatbelt and quickly fastens it. She interlaces her fingers and places them neatly on her lap—but they’re still trembling.

“You’ve never been on a real ship before, have you?” Din asks. He settles down in the pilot’s seat. When she shakes her head, he sighs. “Alright. We’re going to go vertical while we break the atmosphere. But we’ll be out in a few seconds. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Jovi says in a small voice. 

Not exactly a convincing reply, but it’s a little late to do anything about it. Din fastens his own seatbelt and flicks the ships lights off, shrouding them in early morning darkness. The cockpit lights whir on in unison with the engine and Jovi lets out a short gasp, hands gripping the bottom of her seat. 

“It’s just the engine,” Din remarks. “It’s just like the transporter.” 

“The transporter didn’t go into space,” Jovi replies quickly. 

Din huffs. Hand hovering over the steering, he turns to Jovi and says, “Do you want to leave this planet or not?”

Jovi’s face pales. Still, stubbornness is stronger than fear, and Din watches her swallow it back down. Her hand curls around the seatbelt over her chest. Nodding, she says, “I do. Let’s go.” 

Din grabs the steering in response. The ship begins to lurch forward, over the dimly lit meadow. Jovi lets out another small gasp, but she stifles it, biting her lips closed. They break past the meadow and over the cliffside and Din can see her peering through the glass, inquisitive even through her fear. 

He abruptly turns the ship back in the direction of the cliffs. 

“What are you doing?” Jovi asks, and then she gets her response. The ship dips low, swooping dozens of feet over the surface of the water. In the early morning moonlight, the waves glisten below—and the cliffs stand hauntingly white at the edge of shore. Din keeps the ship low and as close to the cliffs as he can. Jovi stares out the window in quiet awe. 

“It’s beautiful,” she says. “I’ll miss it.” 

_There’s a lot of beautiful things out there_ , Din thinks. But if he was young again, knowing he was leaving his home for the last time in a while, he’d say he’ll miss it, too. 

Din lets her look over the shoreline for a little while longer. Then, once she leans back into her seat, he jerks the ship upwards, away from the surface. Jovi clutches onto the bottom of her chair again but says nothing. And just like that, they leave the atmosphere. 

“Goodbye, Jiloh,” Jovi says softly. “I’ll see you soon.” 


	10. The Valleygoose Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din gives Jovi the ins and outs of ship life. Jovi gives him a chance to speak his mind.

**Chapter 10**

Space isn’t scary to Jovi. 

Din expected it to be, judging by her panic right before they left. She freaks out a little at first: clutching onto her seat in the seconds between breaking out into space and the artificial gravity kicking in. But once the gravity kicks in entirely and the bite of the atmosphere against the ship fades, she’s peering through the windshield again, gazing at the stars and her receding home planet with outward fascination. 

It’s… sweet, watching her practically press her face into the glass to get a better view. She babbles excitedly once she’s regained her bearings, talking about the stars she sees and pointing out Jiloh’s moon on the right. Din’s passed that moon plenty of times, but he still listens as she presents facts about it and the stars around them. 

She’s smart. He’s not  _ surprised, _ per se. He’d gotten a glimpse of it back on solid ground, with the things she knew and the way she presented herself. It’s just that last Din heard, girls on her planet aren’t allowed to go to school past fourteen. When she mentioned to him once that she’d stolen a book on Mandalorians from her father’s study, it didn’t really come to mind that she had read much else. Looking back, she must have. She speaks with the certainty of men Din’s met that have spent their whole lives dedicated to literature. Those men have been boring, of course—not exactly Din’s cup of tea—but she speaks with so much certainty that Din feels obliged to listen. 

Keeping her talking also distracts her from them getting further and further away from her home planet. While she’s talking, Din puts the ship in hyperdrive. The ship jolts forward, breaking past the barrier and into hyperspace. Ahead of them, the light bends around an unseen path. She sucks in a sharp breath of surprise. 

“Hyperspace,” she murmurs. “Wow. I never thought it would be this… blue. It’s beautiful.” 

Din turns to look at Jovi. Flecks of light dance in her eyes, the space ahead painting her face a pale blue. Her lips are parted in amazement. 

Turning back, he says, “It is.” He coughs. “You get used to it.” 

“To space?” Jovi asks. She lets out a short laugh of disbelief. 

Din shrugs. He unclasps his seatbelt and makes his way into the hold. Slowly, Jovi unclasps her own seatbelt and follows, eyes still glued to the space on the other side of the windshield. 

“Space is big,” Din explains. He approaches a wall of the ship and taps on the metal, exposing a food compartment. He tosses Jovi a ration bar. “It all starts to look the same eventually.” 

Jovi catches the ration and stares down at it in confusion. Her brows furrow. Shaking it off, she looks back up and says, “That’s impossible. There’s so much out there.” 

“And it all looks the same,” Din retorts. He nods towards the ration. “That’s a ration. You eat it.” 

Jovi tries her best to hide it, but distaste is written clear across her face. The hospitality her village is known for has its limits after all. Politely, she reaches across him to place the ration back in the compartment and grabs the bag of food she’d brought from Jiloh. She pulls an apple out of the bag and hands it to him. 

“Fresh food,” she says. “We should eat it before it goes bad.” 

Din cocks a brow, and she can’t see it through the helmet, but he can tell she senses it. He looks at the apple, then back at her. 

“You want to eat all of our fresh food already?” Din asks. He places the apple back in the bag and she tenses. Shaking his head, he places the ration back in her hands. “We have a day until we reach Arkanis, more until we reach the meeting point. You want to spend the last few days of our flight just eating these?” 

Jovi swallows. Reluctantly, she accepts the ration. Din closes the compartment and turns to face her. “Eat.” Then, gentler, “I don’t know the last time you ate.” 

She doesn’t seem to know either, because she doesn’t entirely object. She just unwraps it and studies the bar—brown and made up of ground up… something—before taking a tiny, wary bite. Her nose immediately wrinkles. 

Din snorts in spite of himself. “Not the milk and honey you’re used to?” he asks. 

The look she shoots him could kill. She takes a defiant bite in response. “It tastes fine,” she retorts. She holds the bar to her chest and walks across the room, settling down on top of a box while chewing with a still-wrinkled nose. 

Din doesn’t like those rations either. They taste like what he’d imagine wood chips taste like: flavorless and gritty. They’re probably his least favorite, but they’re the cheapest and last the longest, so he keeps his ship stocked with them. But she doesn’t have to know that. 

Din approaches her. She continues chewing defiantly, eying him as he nears. 

“I’m sorry that my ship’s not very luxurious,” he says, and he means it. He’s used to the bare minimum, getting by with a shitty ship and the shitty food just enough to survive. His big expenses are the ones that keep his job running: weapons and armor. Everything else is a luxury he doesn’t really need. 

Jovi doesn’t take it that way. “Ugh,” she grimaces. “You’re sounding like my father.” She takes one last bite and holds out the wrapper for him to take. Wiping her mouth, she stands up and says, “I’m fine, stranger. I’m not the spoiled little princess he makes me out to be.” She crosses her arms. “So. Arkanis?” 

_ Clearly not,  _ Din thinks. A spoiled little princess wouldn’t be able to almost kill an imperial officer with just her pissed-off mind. But they would probably try to run away with a Mandalorian if they were given a chance. 

“I have to collect my bounty,” he replies. 

“On my father?” Jovi asks. She cocks a brow. “How are you planning on doing that when he’s not here?” 

Attitude. It’s only funny when it’s not directed towards him. “Sometimes clients give a partial reward if their target ends up being a dead end,” he explains briefly. “Or they at least know to call any other bounty hunters off. We don’t want anyone else showing up to your village.” 

“Oh.” Jovi swallows. She settles back down onto the box. “Fair point.” 

Din sits down on the box across from her. “Was I the first one?” he asks. He never asked. They seemed surprised when he arrived, but with a bounty this high, it would be odd if someone else  _ hadn’t  _ stopped by. 

Jovi shakes her head. “I don’t know,” she admits. “If someone came by, I definitely didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” Throwing her hands in the air, she adds, “Could’ve just been another secret he kept from me.” 

There’s a bitterness in her tone that’s hard to ignore. Din clears his throat, not wanting to facilitate it. She’s receptive to it, letting out a short breath of defeat and focusing her gaze on the floor below. 

Deep down, she probably knows he would have a good reason to keep that away from her. Knowing that people were out to get him would’ve put her in danger, and she wouldn’t have taken that threat sitting down. That wouldn’t do her any good. She was a kid—untrained and unarmed, save for that little blaster she threatened him with, however long she had that thing for. 

“You… mentioned  _ sort of  _ being a father,” Jovi says quietly, bringing Din’s gaze back upwards. “Earlier. To my dad. What did you mean by that?” 

Din blinks. “That’s, um…” 

“It’s not my place to judge,” Jovi amends quickly. “I mean you’re a grown… man, and I’m sure plenty of women would want to have a baby by a Mandalorian—” 

“It’s not like that,” Din interjects. He closes his eyes in a grimace. “He’s not my kid. Not by blood.” 

Jovi settles back into her seat, relief washing over her face. Her cheeks tinge pink. “Oh.” Embarrassed, she says, “I’m sorry for assuming.” 

She doesn’t know him, not like that. It’s not the craziest idea she could’ve had. And that probably would’ve been an easier story to tell: him knocking up some woman on a far-away planet and leaving her to fend for herself. It would’ve made him seem like some sort of asshole, sure, but at least it would’ve been easy. One and done. Free of the lingering guilt, the wondering if he did the right thing in letting the kid go. 

He doesn’t owe her much. Nothing except the ride to the uncharted territories he promised her. But there’s no point in lying about his past. The kid’s safe, far away from anyone who could do him harm. And if she’s as special as the Jedi seemed to think she was, she’s one person who won’t do him harm.

“He was my quarry,” Din admits. 

A fire lights in Jovi’s eyes. “A kid?” she asks. “Who would put a bounty on a kid?” 

“A bad person,” Din says. “Bad people.” 

It doesn’t take Jovi long to figure out who those bad people are. Her lips press together in recognition. She knows the things those people are capable of first-hand. Swallowing, she says, “I see.” 

“I didn’t want to accept the job. It seemed off.” Din wrings his hands. “Even at the site. I killed a lot of people to get to him. Then the pod opened up, and it was a kid.” 

He hadn’t even seen a baby for months, if not years. His line of work isn’t exactly baby-friendly. When the pod opened up and revealed him, all tiny, green, and wrapped up like a newborn, it felt like everything stopped. Din wasn’t built to be a dad. He never needed to be. But in that moment, something clicked. 

Din sets his jaw. Shaking his head, he says, “I didn’t know what to do. I’d never taken care of a kid before. I knew they didn’t have good intentions for him.” 

“So you rejected the bounty to save him,” Jovi says, nodding along. “Right?” 

Maybe he should have. Maybe things would’ve been easier that way—the Tribe wouldn’t have been decimated, Grogu wouldn’t have spent more time in captivity. But they still would’ve been on the run. And he still would’ve gone away in the end. 

Din turns away. Shaking his head slowly, he admits, “I didn’t.” 

Jovi’s lips part. She opens her mouth to object, but Din stops her short. 

“I accepted the bounty,” Din says. “Pounds of beskar steel. All stolen from Mandalore during the Great Purge. I had this armor made and gave the rest to the foundlings. It felt like the right thing to do.” 

“Foundlings?” 

“Children taken in by Mandalorians,” Din explains. “I was one, once. And then he was mine.” 

“Sacrificing for the good of the little ones,” Jovi says. “I get it. I spent my childhood taking care of other kids. I did…” She pauses. Looking down, she says, “I let bad things happen to protect them. It’s just the way it is.” 

“This is the way,” Din says, quietly. 

“Yeah.” Jovi lets out a short breath. Something dark, some kind of sadness, flickers in her eyes—but then she blinks, hard, and it’s gone as quickly as it came. Swallowing, she asks, “So how’d you get him back?” 

“I had some help. There were a lot of lives lost. Deaths that shouldn’t have happened. But he was special.” Din turns to look at her, perched quietly on the wooden box ahead of him. “Like you.” 

The furrowing of Jovi’s brow fades. “Like me?” she asks, sitting up straight. “He can…”

“Yes,” Din says. Across from him, Jovi lets out a short breath. “The first time we met, he bonded to me. I think… I think he knew I wasn’t going to hurt him. He saved my life.” An image of his tiny little body, arms outstretched, holding the mudhorn at his mercy before collapsing from exhaustion flashes in Din’s mind. “After that, I knew I had to protect him.” 

“Looks like you owe your life to whatever this… power is,” she says. 

“The Force,” Din replies quickly. She looks up at him inquisitively. “That’s what another Jedi told me. I thought it was a myth.” Slowly, he admits, “I’m still having trouble believing otherwise.” 

Hope twinkles in Jovi’s eyes. Trying to keep her voice level, she asks, “You’ve met more of them?” 

“Just the two,” Din says. “And the Child.” 

Jovi sits back and sighs quietly. This is all a lot for her to process—Din can tell. Just a few days ago, she thought she was the only person with her abilities. Now there’s an entire culture out there. Still, she collects herself and asks, “How old is he?” 

“Old,” Din says. “Older than he looks.” 

Jovi nods slowly. “So he’s not human.” 

“No. I… I don’t know what he is,” Din admits. “I’d never seen anything like him before.” He lifts his hands. “He’s little. This tiny… green thing.” 

A smile creeps onto Jovi’s face. “Green?” she asks. “Like a frog?” 

“Like a frog,” Din replies. 

Jovi laughs to herself, pleased with the analogy. The mental image she’s created is probably entirely different from what he looks like—but even if she did see him, she’d probably still be amused. She’ll see him, hopefully, once she’s with the Jedi. She’ll see him every day.

Din tries not to think about the irony there. He’s taking her to a place where she’ll likely spend much of her time alongside the Child, learning with him, playing with him. All the while, he’ll be far, far away from them both. 

“Where is he now?” Jovi asks, snapping him out of his trance. 

Din shifts. “With the Jedi,” he replies. “We spent a long time running away from the Empire and searching for someone to train him. They… they took him.” He looks down at his gloved hands. “For a while. We made a lot of sacrifices to find him again. And when we got there, he came and took him. That’s when I said goodbye.” 

Jovi studies him quietly for a moment, big hazel eyes peering into him so intensely that he can almost feel it through his helmet. Then, in finality, she says, “You miss him.” 

“I just want him to be safe,” Din replies. A lie—and Jovi definitely realizes it. He can see it in the way she frowns slightly and looks around, thinking of what she’ll say next. 

“Do you think you’ll see him again?” she asks. “When we get there?” 

Din shies away from her intense gaze. “I don’t know.” 

The look on Jovi’s face tells Din she knows he’s avoiding the subject, not wanting to admit the truth. But she doesn’t press again. Instead, a soft smile creeps across her face. “You’re a softie, stranger,” she muses. She reaches forward and nudges him in the shoulder. Dimple forming in her right cheek, she says, “More of a softie than I thought.” 

Din puts a hand over the spot where she nudged him. 

“I’m not—” he stops, realizing he sounds defensive. Sighing, he says, “I just care about the kid. That’s all.” The understatement of the century. But if he talks casually enough about it, it might just seem convincing. 

A smile still lingers on Jovi’s face. Gently, she says, “It’s okay to be a softie. It means you have a heart.” She stands up and pats down her skirt. “You’re still human.” Shrugging a little, she adds, “Last I checked.” 

Din had almost forgotten that—that she knew what he looked like. It’s odd, having someone in such close quarters that’s seen him for him, underneath all of the beskar. Even the kid only ever saw the bottom of his face unless he was showering. But she… she knows exactly what he looks like. There’s not a woman in the universe that can say they’ve taken his helmet off except for her. 

And it’s weird. Really weird. Because she’s not his wife, or his lover, or his… whatever. She’s just a Kanian kid that wanted to save his life so desperately that she took matters into her own hands. 

“Is there…” Jovi turns around, peering around the walls of the ship. Looking back at him, she asks, “Is there a shower on this thing?” 

_ And  _ Din had definitely forgotten about that. Of course a Kanian would want to shower within the first hour of boarding his ship. 

Din clears his throat. “Shower?” 

Jovi laughs a little. She lifts the hem of her skirt, caked in a thick layer of mud. “Yeah, shower,” she says. “I don’t want to get your ship dirtier than I already have.” She nods towards the mud on the floor, where she’d dragged her bags across the metal plating. “Which I’ll clean, by the way.” 

Wrinkling her nose, she adds, “I also stink. I don’t think you want to smell that through your helmet.”

It’s very doubtful that she stinks, mud or not. She’s  _ clean _ —Din’s caught a waft of her scent before, back when she’d visit him in the inn and lean over him to change the sheets. She smells like clean linen and the salty Kan air. 

...But she’s a Kanian girl, through and through, and she probably hasn’t spent more than a few minutes covered in dirt without her father immediately ordering her to shower. Maybe it would be best that she doesn’t cover every surface in his ship with dirt. 

Din nods towards the left-hand wall, where two slim metal doors sit straddling the exterior sink. “Refresher’s the second door,” he says. “Try not to use all of the hot water.” 

Jovi smiles gratefully. She goes to her bags, tucked neatly under the net in the corner, and pulls out a change of clothes before disappearing into the bathroom. The frosted glass is sort of transparent, so Din makes an effort not to look in its direction. He hears the water turn on and busies himself with tidying up the cabin. 

He pushes the boxes into the far corner and wipes down the floor with a sani-mop before Jovi can protest. It’s just mud. Maker knows Din’s tracked in worse on the job. He wipes the floor until the mop’s red with Jilohvian clay and tosses the dirty sheet into the disposal beside the right bunk.

The bunks. Din hadn’t even considered that. He’d only bought one sleeping pad and blanket—the thin one that feels like sleeping on a mildly-padded piece of slate. The other bunk is completely bare, stripped down to the metal. The last owners must’ve scrapped it. 

He hadn’t prepared for someone else sleeping on his ship. It’s not like he typically takes on willing passengers, especially not ones who stay long enough to sleep onboard. Which means he’ll have to go without an actual place to sleep for a few days. 

He’ll just sleep in the captain’s chair. 

The door to the refresher slides open. Hot steam rolls through the air, forming visible tendrils that inch through the otherwise cold air. Out steps Jovi amidst the steam. Her hair falls, heavy, in wet ringlets down her shoulders, and a thin blue dress hugs her petite frame. A clean dress. She approaches him with her towel in hand. 

“Hi,” she breathes out. Up close, and with her skin clean again, Din can see freckles peppering her nose that he hadn’t noticed before. Faint ones, from the sun. Wringing her hair with the towel, she says, “Your soap smells nice.”

Sure enough, she smells like his soap now, with just a hint of the earthiness from back home—and it’s weirdly intimate, enough to make Din clear his throat. It’s just soap. Cheap soap. 

“Thanks,” Din says, throat feeling dry. 

If Jovi senses his sudden discomfort, she doesn’t vocalize it. She holds up her soiled dress. “Where can I put this?” 

Din doesn’t usually have “dirty clothes.” He just washes what’s on his back and keeps it moving. He whirls around, looking for a place to put her things down. He grabs a small box and tosses the contents on the ground without a second thought. Ammo spills out in every direction. Handing her the box, he says, “Here.” 

A small, odd smile creeps onto Jovi’s face. “Thanks,” she says, taking the box from him. She places her dirty clothes inside and tucks the box in the corner beside her other belongings. 

Din stares down blankly at the weapons now scattered across the floor. That was stupid. Dumbly, he reaches down and starts collecting the ammo from the floor. 

Jovi holds out a handful of ammo. Din collects it, straightening back out and going to his weapons vault to store them. The door slides open and he opens a drawer, tossing the handful of metal bits inside. 

“Cool vault,” Jovi says from behind him. She nods towards his shock prod. “You gonna let me use that thing sometime?” 

Din snaps the vault closed. “Nope.” 

She laughs a little. “Worth a shot.” 

Din inputs the same four-digit code he used to open the vault up. Jovi’s a good kid, but he still feels weird leaving his vault open for anyone to creep at. As the vault begins to make its familiar locking sound, he hears Jovi yawn behind him. 

He turns around. “Did you sleep before you got here?” he asks. 

Jovi shakes her head. “No,” she admits. “My father and I had another… argument, and then I spent the rest of the night packing.” 

Din looks back at the cockpit. The ship is still a tiny blip on the navigation screen, hours away from even reaching the Arkanis sector. There’s no sense in her staying awake. ...And it would also be nice to have some peace and quiet. 

He approaches the left-hand bunk. The partition slides open, revealing a small enclosed bunk with a sleeping pad, a pillow, and a neatly-folded blanket. Jovi appears behind him, peering into the bunk. She looks back at him and he sweeps his hand towards the bunk in a grand gesture.

She sits down on the sleeping pad. “Thank you.” Looking back up at him, she asks, “Where are you sleeping?” 

“Captain’s chair,” he replies. “Gotta stay alert.” 

She peers at the captain’s chair behind him. It’s not particularly comfortable: it came with the ship, and it lacks any real padding. But it’s a chair, and Din’s slept in it before. Frowning, she notes, “You only have one bunk, don’t you?” 

“Two,” Din says. “Only one of them’s furnished. I didn’t think I’d have visitors.” 

She stands up. Shaking her head, she says, “I can’t take your bed.”

“It’s clean,” Din replies. “Doesn’t smell like a man, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He tugs at the sheets to reveal a clean sleeping pad. He’d only slept on it once since coming to Kan, and he’d made sure to wash it after his last long-haul flight. 

“I—” Jovi laughs, shaking her head again. “I don’t care if it smells like you. I just don’t want to take your bed. I can sleep in the unfurnished bunk.” 

Given how luxurious the beds are in Kan, Din highly doubts that. Sleeping on a bare metal plate isn’t pleasant for anyone, much less someone used to valleygoose-down mattresses. “It’s fine,” he says. When Jovi opens her mouth again to speak, he repeats, “It’s fine. Really.” He nods towards the bunk. “I’ll buy another sleeping pad when we get to Arkanis. I don’t mind sleeping in the chair.” 

Jovi looks unconvinced, but she doesn’t fight it. With a frown, she settles back down in the bunk and tucks her feet under the sheets. “Okay,” she says. “But if you don’t end up sleeping, I’m dragging you into this bunk myself.” 

“With you?” Din deadpans, cocking a brow. 

Jovi’s cheeks stain pink. Her mouth hangs open for a moment before she shakes her head indignantly. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she says. “For the record, I was trying to be nice, stranger.” 

Din turns around and starts to make his way into the cockpit as she starts to pull the sheets over herself. “Just busting your balls, kid,” he says. 

“Well, I don’t have balls, so good luck with that,” Jovi retorts over his shoulder. 

Din just snorts and settles back down in the captain’s chair. Back in the cabin, there’s a shuffling as Jovi settles into the sheets. He reaches up and flicks the overhead lights off, leaving the console lights on for guidance. There’s still a ways left until Arkanis—he’ll sleep himself once it’s closer. For now, he’ll just enjoy the silence. 

It’s not a guilty silence, like the countless ones that overcame the ship in between leaving the kid and arriving on Jiloh. For the first time in weeks, he has a real sense of purpose again: a mission that doesn’t involve killing someone or capturing them or jetting around the galaxy with a little green guy he’ll probably never see again. He’s gonna help someone. And it feels nice. Normal, almost. Like the way his life should be; like it would’ve been had he grown up to be a pilot instead of an orphaned bounty hunter. 

“Hey, stranger?” Jovi suddenly asks. 

Din spins the captain’s chair around. Through the faint glow of the console, he sees Jovi curled up in the bunk, blanket pulled up over her nose. Pulling it down slightly, she asks, “Since I’m here, do you have to sleep with the helmet on?” 

“I always sleep with the helmet on,” Din replies. Jovi blinks in reply. Noting her look, he says, “I’m used to it.” 

“Weird.” Jovi yawns, pulling the blanket back over her body. Eyes glittering in the dim light, she says, “Okay. Well, I’m going to bed.”

Din spins the chair back around. Fiddling with the controllers, he says, “Okay.” 

“Goodnight,” Jovi calls out. 

There’s another round of shuffling as Jovi repositions herself in the bunk. Then silence. And for the first time in weeks, Din’s alone with his thoughts. 


	11. The Senator

Jovi sleeps through most of the flight. 

Din sleeps for a bit too, mostly on-and-off, waking if something beeps or if Jovi moves too loudly in her sleep. He’s decidedly _not_ used to having someone else in his ship like that—not someone human-sized. The kid was quiet, barely audible most of the time except for the occasional squeak of protest or greeting. But having a fully grown adult in his cabin? 

He’ll get used to it. Eventually. 

Arkanis comes into view after a long set of hours. From above, the planet’s a stormy grey, heavy with cloud cover. Faint swirls of the planet’s surface—oceans and green land speckled with lights—appear through the thick clouds. Din’s never seen the sun from Arkanis’ surface, and with good reason: the planet’s one of the rainiest in the galaxy, with sunny days being a rarity. Today, it looks to be no exception. 

There’s a shuffling of feet. Jovi slumps into the co-pilot’s seat beside him with a yawn. Her curls are matted from sleeping and her eyes are heavy with sleep. 

“Hi,” she greets. She rubs her eyes. “Is this Arkanis?” 

Din switches the comms on in reply. Leaning forward, he says, “This is RGS-202, requesting permission to land.” 

A staticky, accented voice comes over the comms. “RGS-202, this is Arkanis tower 2. Request granted. Please proceed into the atmosphere into dock 5.” 

Din switches the comms back off and leans back. Nodding towards her, he says, “Put your seatbelt on. We’re about to descend.” 

Jovi sleepily obliges. She buckles her seatbelt in and Din starts the gradual descent into the atmosphere. The clouds envelop the ship almost immediately, casting a grey hue on the dim lighting inside the ship. 

“Did you sleep?” Jovi asks. She tucks her bare feet underneath her and turns to look at him. 

Din lets out a sound of acknowledgement. He turns the wheel further downwards, through row after row of frozen clouds. 

“Well?” Jovi asks. 

“Hmm?” Din turns to face her. 

“Did you sleep _well_?” she asks. 

Din raps his fingers against the wheel. Turning back to the dashboard, he notes, “You ask a lot of questions, kid.” 

“Says the one answering them,” Jovi retorts. But her tone doesn’t carry any venom. Voice lowering, she admits, “I just feel bad. Taking your bed and all.” 

There’s that Kanian hospitality. Or maybe it’s just the habit of not wanting to take up more space than necessary that they teach their girls so well. Din lets out a breath through his nose. “I slept okay,” he finally says. He turns to look at her. “Did you?” 

Jovi blinks slowly at him. “Yeah,” she says. She rubs her temple. “Pretty well, actually. I had some weird dreams though.” 

Something beeps. Din directs his attention back to the dashboard—a proximity alert. Ten thousand feet before reaching the surface. Rain starts to hit the ship, loud and persistent, drowning out any attempts at a conversation. 

Jovi settles back in her seat. They continue their descent through the clouds, the fog and rain increasing as they approach. Din guides the ship through the fog, past several rows of towers alight with red light. At the fifth one, he turns, guiding the ship into a soft landing. The landing gear _thunks_ against the ground and Din stills. Through the windshield, he can make out a ghost of a city in front of them: lights flickering through the drizzle and fog. 

“Are we here?” Jovi asks. She slides her seatbelt off and peers through the window. “It’s so foggy.” 

Din shuts the engine off. “Yes,” he says. He unclasps his seatbelt and rises, approaching his vault. There’s a pattering of feet against metal as Jovi gets up to follow him. 

“So what’s the plan?” she asks. “We go in and tell your client he’s dead?” 

Din holsters his blaster. “ _I_ go in and tell my client he’s dead,” he corrects. He turns and presses his finger into her chest. “ _You_ stay on the ship.” 

Jovi looks down at his hand then back up at him. “I’m staying?” 

“Yes.” Din retracts his hand. He begins to sort through the ammo wall, restocking anything he can. 

“I’ve never been on another planet before,” Jovi says, sounding defeated. “And… why are you stocking up like you’re about to go to war?” 

Din slides a residual whistling bird into his cuff. Subtle enough to get past any security detail this guy might have, but helpful in a pinch. He turns back around to a frowning Jovi. 

“This guy’s a politician that wanted your father dead.” He clicks the whistling bird into place. “I don’t think it’s in your best interest to go.” 

Jovi crosses her arms. “I can take care of myself.” 

Din takes a step towards her. With him in his boots and her barefoot, he towers over her more than ever. “Can you?” he asks. 

She stares up at him, unblinking, but there’s just the faintest bob of her throat. After a few moments, she looks down and sighs. “I guess not.” She turns around and starts busying herself with tidying the bunk. 

“I don’t doubt you can take care of yourself,” Din says after a moment of silence. Because she definitely can, she proved that before. There’s just no real need for her to get involved if she can avoid it. He adjusts his cuffs and looks over at her as she quietly folds his blanket. “But I don’t want you to get involved. These things are messy. And these men…” He trails off. “They’re not people you want to associate with. Trust me.”

And Jovi doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but she obeys. “Okay.” She sets the pillow down in its rightful place. “I’ll stay put. Are you going to be gone for long?” 

“Don’t think so,” Din says. “Just keep your head low. I don’t want anyone bugging you.” 

“Will do, warden.” At the silence coming through Din’s modulator, she cracks a half-smile and says, “Kidding. Good luck in there.”

Din presses the button to the ramp. The sound of rain hitting the pavement hard outside fills the ship. He looks back at her, small and nestled in his bunk, before walking out into the downpour. 

Arkanis is, for lack of a better word, fucking miserable. Constant downpours keep the planet in a perpetual state of fog and shroud its capital city in greyscale. When it’s not pouring outside, there’s a constant spray falling overhead, and the humidity in the air leaves you drenched after just a few seconds of standing outside. 

Din’s clothing is not waterproof. His beskar might be, but all it does is repel water onto the nearest surface, which happens to be his clothes. Walking through Arkanis feels like walking through a shower with all of his clothes on. A cold shower. 

Thankfully, the city is densely populated—not by people, necessarily, but by buildings: tall, towering skyscrapers that sit closely together. The politician’s office is in a particularly tall building a relatively short walk from the port. He weaves past other travelers, huddling under umbrellas to keep dry, towards the cluster of lights cutting through the distant fog. 

By the time he reaches the familiar building, water has seeped into his clothes. The cape’s absorbed a lot of the rainfall, but it’s heavy, and sticks to his back as he walks. Admittedly not the most intimidating sight. 

He pulls the front door open and is enveloped in bright, artificial light. The first bright light he’s seen in a while; the concussion he _probably_ still has tickles at the back of his eyes. The lobby’s long, complete with endless white tiles and glass walls to give the illusion of light. At the end of the lobby sit several white marble elevators and just before it, a man with snow-white skin behind a marble counter. 

Din’s boots squeak against the floor. It echoes through the otherwise empty lobby. 

“Ah. Mandalorian,” the man greets as he nears. “We’ve been expecting you for some time now. Quarry serve you trouble?” He’s a weasley little creature: a reptilian the politician had hired from somewhere off-planet. When Din first met the politician, he’d off-handedly remarked that he’d taken him into his charge when he was just an egg. With the reptile-man’s unwavering dedication to his work, he doesn’t doubt that. 

Din throws his blaster on the counter. He knows the drill. “Something like that. Tell your boss I’m here. I’d like to speak with him.”

The assistant clears his throat. Eying the blaster, he says, “He already knows you’re here, sir.” He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “He has been expecting you, after all. He was alerted the moment you docked in-port.” 

Din should’ve expected that. Clients like these, they like to micromanage. He probably was notified the moment they even broke through the atmosphere. This is exactly why he doesn’t like dealing in high-profile affairs. Too many noses in his business.

The assistant peers over the counter and frowns. “I see you came empty handed.” 

“That’s why I’m here,” Din says. “I need to speak with him. Privately.” 

“I see,” the assistant says. “One moment, sir.” He raises his long fingers to the control panel before him and begins to type something in. 

Din looks around as he waits. This place is atrocious. It’s sterile, reminiscent of every imperial architectural design he’s ever laid his eyes on—ironic, given that Arkanis is supposedly a New Republic stronghold. Both sides aren’t as different as they claim to be. 

“Ah.” The assistant glances back upwards. Clasping his hands together, he says, “Great news, sir. You have been invited to Senator Krawley’s soirée tonight. There, you’ll be free to discuss any business you may have.” A polite smile gives way to fine, nearly-translucent teeth. “It’s quite an honor, really. His party invitations are widely sought after.” 

Din clears his throat. “I was under the impression that it would be a private conversation with the Senator. I… have other engagements to tend to.” Attending a party on a planet like this isn’t particularly high on his list. Mandalorians don’t exactly have a perfect track record with legislators and government officials—even when they’re getting hired by their own. He doesn’t imagine he’d be very welcomed upon his arrival. 

“Oh, nonsense sir. This is a private event. Only the most respectable people in Arkanis will be in attendance,” the assistant assures him. “The Senator will be happy to speak with you in private during the event. However, he asks that you attend if you wish to receive your payment.” 

Din sighs. “I’m not interested in going to a party.” 

The assistant’s throat bobs under his skin. He scans the monitor again for a second before clearing his throat. Looking up at Din, he says, “My apologies. The Senator has extended his invitation to both you and your friend.” 

Din’s throat feels dry. “I came alone,” he says. 

“You did not, sir,” the assistant corrects. “Our system states that you traveled to our great city with someone. A human woman.” He blinks up at Din again. “We took the liberty of scanning your ship for life forms upon arrival. I apologize for the intrusion.” 

_Dank farrik_. “She’s a client,” Din replies curtly. “I’m offering her passage. This business does not concern her.” 

The assistant blinks his reptilian eyes at Din. “The Senator insists, sir,” he states. His gaze travels past Din towards an unseen object, swallowing uncomfortably. Din turns around. A _holocam_. One that most likely has a direct line to the politician himself. When he turns back around, the assistant clears his throat once more. “He says it’s in your best interest that you accept.” 

Din swallows. Nothing about this is a good idea—and if the politician requested Jovi’s presence so ardently, then there was definitely a trick or two up his sleeve. These types of people don’t just invite others for the sake of inviting them. But he doesn’t have a choice. 

“Fine.” He reholsters his blaster. “I’ll come.”

The reptile-man sighs in relief. “Excellent,” he says. He leans forward and places two holo-tickets in Din’s hands. “The soirée begins at 19:00. The Senator looks forward to your presence.” 

Din lets out a short sound in reply. He tucks the holo-tickets into a pocket along the side in his pants and promptly turns back around. Over his shoulder, the man remarks, “Make sure to shine your beskar!”

The door slams shut behind him. Din pushes through the rain, which picked up since he entered the building, and makes it back to the ship faster than when he left it. The ramp slides open as he approaches. 

Din steps up and inside, his footsteps loud against the metal. At the sound of his arrival, Jovi appears from nestled inside his bunk. 

“Hey,” she says. “How’d it go?” 

The ramp begins to slide closed behind Din. Jovi watches him expectantly—but he steps past, towards the cockpit. Nothing on the ship indicates they were ever scanned, but they must have been. The visibility’s way too low for anyone to have seen Jovi through the window. 

“They scanned us,” Din says. He adjusts his cuffs and shakes his head. “He knew you were here.” 

“What?” Jovi stands up. “They can do that?”

“They can do a lot of things.” He tosses one of the invitations in Jovi’s direction. She catches it, turning it over in her hands. Gesturing towards it, Din says, “Including making us go to a _soiree_.” 

“A soiree?” Jovi lifts the invitation to the light. It glows a faint blue under the fluorescent lighting, letters etched in an iridescent, digital font. Brow furrowed, she asks, “Why?” 

Din tosses the other invitation towards the empty bunk. “Don’t know.”

Jovi places her invitation beside the other one. Settling down on the edge of the bunk, she says, “You don’t strike me as the party type, stranger.” Her legs swing back and forth off the edge. 

“I’m not.” Din places his blaster back in the vault. “It’s the only way I’ll get to talk to the Senator.” He locks the vault behind him, punching the numbers in hard. “He was insistent.” 

Jovi’s legs stop swinging. “That sounds… like a threat,” she says. 

It definitely is. A threat to what, though, Din doesn’t know. All he knows is that going to this party is the only way they’ll get the politician to call off any future goons that might want to terrorize that town. 

“You don’t have to come,” Din says. Honestly, he doesn’t think she particularly _should._ These politicians, they don’t live here—they live off-world, on other planets with temperate climates and servants to wait on their hand and foot. They stay here when the senate’s in session, away from their families and the lifestyles they’re used to. And they’re desperate: desperate as the touch-starved bounty hunters Din’s been working alongside for years. In places like these, the only women are visiting aristocracy, workers, and prostitutes, so when a girl that looks like her walks in… 

“It’s fine,” Jovi says, shrugging. “I can go to a party.” 

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Din admits. “They’re all old men, and you’re…” He raises his hand in an empty gesture, struggling to find the appropriate words. “A commodity.”

“A commodity?” Jovi laughs. “Are you trying to call me pretty, stranger?” 

And Din’s suddenly glad that he’s wearing a helmet, because his mouth hangs open for just a second too long. “No,” he corrects, strained. “That’s not what I meant. You’re young, and these men are desperate. They don’t care what you look like.”

A brief look of offendedness flashes across Jovi’s face, and Din suddenly feels like a dick, because that’s not what he meant. This is why he doesn’t talk much. 

“Alright then,” she says, jaw set slightly. “Anyway, I don’t think you going alone would be the best idea either.” She gestures at him. “You’re a walking gun, and they’re a group of elites who think the world is on their case. You want them to ignore you, not feel threatened by you. Unless you want to start a bar fight in a skyscraper.” 

“I don’t see why you’d change that.” 

Jovi rolls her eyes and hops off the bunk. “Rule number one of being a man with influence,” she says. She reaches out and locks arms with him. He tenses at her touch and she disregards it, lifting her hand to her own chest. Sagely, she says, “Having a woman on your arm makes you look personable.” 

Din lifts his arm slightly. “This is my good arm.” The other arm still sits in a sling flush against his chest. 

Big, brown eyes looking up at him, she says, “I know.” 

Din stays there, not quite knowing what to do with his arm, until she lets go. She approaches the pile of her belongings in the corner and begins to rummage through them. “You want them to think you’re just a man passing through, and not a threat.” She turns to look at him. “Which you look like, with all of that shiny metal on you.” 

“The beskar stays,” Din says. 

Jovi pulls a piece of fabric out of one of the bags—something cream-colored and long. Shaking her head, she puts it back into the bag and looks in the next one. “Fine,” she replies, eyes glued to the contents of the bag. “So make yourself look less intimidating. Use me as a prop.” 

And that feels… incredibly demeaning, but like before, Jovi’s speaking with so much confidence that he can’t help but feel like she has a point. She’s from a planet frequented by people just like these. She’s spent a lifetime studying other things—sneaking books, people-watching. There’s no reason why she couldn’t have learned this, too. 

“It’s the only way you’ll get to talk to him, right?” she asks. Din nods slowly. “Then let’s make it happen.” Gently, she pulls something else out of the bag and holds it to her chest. Softly, she says, “And I have just the dress for the occasion.” 

Din sighs. “Alright,” he relents. “But I’m giving you a knife.” 

✫彡

19:00 comes soon enough. Outside, the sky fades from a rainy grey to a foggy almost-black, the day’s downpour giving way to heavy fog. Din ends up taking a quick shower, if only because Jovi kept telling him he smelled like a wet mountain-hound. He tosses on new clothes that don’t cling to his skin and comes out of the refresher to find Jovi fully dressed.

“Hi,” she greets, hands raised mid-braiding. “You look clean.” 

If he hadn’t seen her right before, he almost wouldn’t have recognized her. Her hair’s half-tucked back in an intricate braid that frames her face. And the dress isn’t anything like what he’s seen her wear before. It’s modern, form-fitting, with a sheer piece of fabric that falls gently over her shoulder. Definitely not Kanian. If Din had met her right now, looking like this, he probably would’ve been stunned speechless.

...Which, admittedly, he still is now. 

Pressing her lips into a half-smile, Jovi acknowledges his silence and explains, “It was my mother’s.” She drops her hand and pats down the now-finished braid, checking for any loose strands. “My father had it made for her when I was little. They were supposed to rent a ship together and go somewhere romantic.” Shrugging, she says, “It never happened.”

Din’s never seen her mother before, but he has an inkling that right now, she probably looks a lot like her. It’s weird, seeing her so dressed up. She’s only ever been in dresses around him, but this is different. 

“You look…” Din starts, trailing off. _Nice_ , he wants to say. _You look really nice_. 

“Like a commodity?” Jovi jokes, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I know. It’s not really… me, but I don’t want to advertise myself as Kanian. Not here. They might assume something.” 

No, it’s definitely not her—but it still suits her. Din lets out a breath. “You need a knife,” he says after a moment, finally finishing a sentence. He turns and starts to unlock the vault. “You have somewhere to put it?” 

The vault swings open, revealing the wall of weapons. Most of them are metalloids, which means they won’t pass through any security detail the Senator might have set up. Din might be able to get away with carrying weapons into a place like that, but she certainly wouldn’t be able to. She needs something non-metalloid and discreet.

“Yeah,” she says behind him. “On my leg. It’s where I kept my blaster back on Jiloh.” 

Din’s hand wraps around a knife. He picks it up and places it in Jovi’s hand. Gently unsheathing it, he says, “This is reinforced obsidian.” 

She picks the knife up by the hilt and studies it. The stone glimmers in the faint overhead lights. It’s one of the few things he was carrying on his person when he lost everything on the _Razor Crest_ , holstered right beside his vibroblade. Definitely not his favorite weapon, but one that’s effective enough to keep. “It’s sharp,” she remarks. 

Din resheaths it. “Keep it sheathed,” he says. “I trust you.”

Jovi nods faintly. She walks over to her pile of things and pulls out a long, thin piece of fabric. Her hand goes to lift her skirt and Din quickly turns away, becoming particularly interested in the metal sheeting on the wall. There’s a shuffling of muffled fabric for a few brief moments. 

“Done.” Jovi drops her skirt once more and walks up to Din, offering him her arm. “You ready to go?” 

Din reaches out tentatively and she stops short. “Wait. One second,” she says, turning around to rummage through her things one more time. She lifts something out of a bag: an old-school umbrella, made of some kind of twisted wood. 

“You brought an umbrella?” Din asks, cocking a brow. 

She steps alongside him with the umbrella in hand. Shrugging, she says, “There’s a lot of rainy planets out there.” 

But Din doesn’t really have time to be annoyed at her, because the moment they step out past the ramp, her kingberry-patterned umbrella is what’s keeping him dry. She wraps her arm around his, lifting the umbrella high over their heads—but her arms are short, and Din finds himself snatching it up from her without a second thought. She blinks up at him appreciatively and they make their way down the stone-lined streets, towards the distant sound of chatter. 

As they near, the crowd comes into view: well-to-doers stepping out of their covered landspeeders and chatting amongst themselves at the entrance to the building. At the door stands the Senator’s assistant, greeting everyone who passes with a bowed head. 

There’s a chorus of posh laughter as one of the men tells a joke. The laughter dies down faintly as Din and Jovi approach. The well-to-doers eye them in hushed silence, whispering amongst themselves. Jovi tightens her grasp on Din’s arm. 

“Good evening,” she greets in the best rendition of a Core Worlds accent Din’s probably ever heard. She smiles politely and the others, taken aback, return the favor. 

“Good evening to you both,” the Senator’s assistant greets as they approach. “Glad you could make it, sir.” He smiles widely. “And might I say, your wife is beautiful.” 

Din’s grip on Jovi’s hand stiffens. “She’s not my wife,” he corrects quickly. He feels Jovi’s grasp loosen. 

The assistant bows his head. Opening the door, he says, “My apologies, sir. Your _friend_ is beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” Jovi says quietly. 

The lobby is full of people when they enter. Now that the assistant has abandoned his post, there are two other individuals in his place, fitted with matching suits and matching expressions devoid of emotion. They eye Din and Jovi as they pass. 

“This place is crazy,” Jovi whispers once they’re out of earshot.

A well-dressed Twi’lek man presses the elevator button for them. He’s dressed nicely enough, but Din can still tell he was exported here under slave labor—he makes an effort to avoid meeting their gaze and bows his head low when Jovi speaks. 

“It is,” Din remarks. “I don’t like it.”

The elevator doors open. Din steps inside, with Jovi following shortly after. The doors close behind them and the elevator whirrs to life. Glass walls reveal the landscape outside: cold and rainy, with the lights of neighboring skyscrapers cutting through the fog. Jovi peers through the windows with curiosity. 

“That was a slave,” Din remarks. 

Jovi turns to look at him. “Which one?”

“All of them.” 

The elevator doors open again, revealing a large, busy hall. Just like Din expected, there’s a security detail checking in guests. They stop and wait behind a Rodian in senatorial robes. 

“This place is huge,” Jovi mutters. 

Din bumps his arm against her shoulder slightly. “Wait until we get inside.” 

The security guards, three men with New Republic pins on their lapels, eye them as they reach the front of the line. “Invitations?” the tallest one asks, stepping forward.

Din lets go of Jovi for a second to pull the invitations out of his pocket. The guard takes one from him, activating the hologram. An image of Din in full armor appears—a profile he didn’t even realize they had on him. He swallows. 

“Mandalorian, huh?” the guard asks. 

Din nods curtly. The guard eyes him up and down, gaze falling on the blaster holstered to Din’s side. He pauses for a moment, eyebrow cocked, before letting out a sigh. “Alright,” he says, taking the other invitation from Din’s hand. A picture of Jovi dressed in Kanian garbs and looking slightly younger than now appears. 

“Where’d they get that picture of me?” Jovi asks. She glances over at Din. “I’ve never seen that before.” 

“We’re the government, sweetheart,” the guard remarks. “It’s what we do.” He tosses both of their invitations into a tub behind him. “Next.” 

They walk past the guard and towards his coworkers at the end of the hall. The two men look at them before wordlessly lifting the rope beside the metal detector. Jovi spares Din a sideways glance before following him to the exit. 

There’s a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. Two more Twi’leks, dressed in matching suits, stand beside them, hands folded neatly. As Din and Jovi approach, they open the doors with bowed heads.

On the other side of the doors is a massive room teeming with life. Din had been here a few weeks before, to discuss the terms of the bounty with the Senator—but it looks entirely different now. Dozens of tables are set-up across the endless marble floors and real candles hang from the multiple regal chandeliers on the ceiling. The floor is full of high-status uniforms and evening gowns that eye them intensely as they enter. 

To their left is a bar. A few men at the bar nod in recognition when they see Din. Not government officials; they’d look at him with disdain. Just high-profile faces he’s certain he’s seen before. By the bar, a band plays a classy, jazzified rendition of music he’d heard at cantinas across the Outer Rim. 

“A Kanian and a Mandalorian walk into a bar,” Jovi whispers beside Din. “There has to be a joke in there somewhere.” 

“I don’t know that one,” Din replies. He presses his hand to her back. 

As they continue into the crowd, Din starts to realize that the party is busy. Busier than he expected to be, which makes finding the man he came to see difficult. Usually, at a thing like this, the host would greet him the moment he enters, eager for him to leave and stop disturbing his guests. But the Senator doesn’t seem to work that way, and he can’t find any sign of him in the crowd. Instead, all he’s seeing is wandering eyes that can’t seem to move from their direction. 

“They’re still staring,” Jovi whispers. Her face is neutral, un-furrowed, and offers small, timid smiles to anyone who greets them, but she feels tense against him. 

“I thought you didn’t mind parties,” Din says. 

Jovi’s grip tightens. Snorting, she says, “I never said they were my favorite.” 

And it’s obvious: almost all of them are old, leering men or wives of the elite here to gossip. All with gazes trained squarely on Jovi. She’s the youngest woman here by decades, easily. Din meant it when he said she would be a commodity. His hand snakes further along her waist without realizing it. 

“Hard not to stare at a tin can, I guess,” she half-jokes, a hint of nervousness in her voice. 

Din follows a particularly tight-lipped woman’s gaze to Jovi. Shaking his head, he says, “They’re not staring at me.” 

The song changes and they find themselves standing in the center of the room, eyed at less-than-subtly by people eating at nearby tables. Din looks down at Jovi, who’s doing her best to hide her discomfort. 

“Mando!” a jovial voice calls. Senator Krawley appears before them, pushing through the tables and clad in the same robes as all of the other politicians. A New Republic insignia sits proudly on his lapel. He takes Din’s hand into his and shakes it. “So glad you could make it. My assistant told me you seemed hesitant.” 

“Seems like I didn’t have much of an option,” Din says dryly. 

“Just playful banter,” the Senator replies. “But I knew you would make it. A Mando always sticks to his word, ah?” 

His gaze shifts to Jovi and darkens. His eyes rake her up and down before he reaches out and grasps her small hand in his. “Now tell me, Mando,” he asks, “who is this lovely lady you’re traveling with?”

Jovi bows her head politely. “Jovi, sir.” 

“Jovi, eh?” The Senator turns and gives Din an amused look. “Interesting. I didn’t know Mandalorians partnered outside of their culture.” 

“She’s a friend,” Din deadpans. 

The Senator’s eyebrows raise. The look in his eyes tells Din he was hoping he would say just that. Gaze raking over her figure once more, he says, “Ah. My apologies. Well in that case…” He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss to her hand, eying her from below. “Welcome to Arkanis, Jovi.” Straightening back out, he asks, “Now what would a beautiful woman like you be doing traveling with a Mandalorian?” 

Jovi glances up at Din briefly, who just shakes his head. “I have business in the Outer Rim,” she replies. “The Mandalorian offered me passage.” 

“Passage.” A grin spreads across the Senator’s face. He gives Din a knowing look, saying, “I see.” He clasps a hand on Din’s shoulder and gestures towards the second floor of the penthouse. “Well, if you’ll excuse us, I believe my friend and I have some business to attend to.”

Jovi nods politely. “Understood, sir.” 

“But…” The Senator looks back at her. “Please, Jovi, feel free to explore the penthouse or have anything that interests you.” A lazy smile overtaking his features, he says, “Let them know you’re on Senator Krawley’s tab.” 

Coming out of his mouth, the words sound so much sleazier than they should. Din sets his jaw and follows the Senator towards the stairs. When he turns around, Jovi gives him a nod of recognition and disappears towards the bar. 

The stairs up to the second floor are long, and spill out into a narrow strip protected by glass. A handful of partygoers stand on the balcony and greet them briefly as they pass. The Senator leads him to the right and into a spacious room with glass walls. By the entrance, two security guards stand at attention. 

The Senator closes the door behind Din. His office is spacious, overlooking both the foggy cliffside behind them and the rest of the penthouse beneath them. He settles down in his chair and gestures for Din to sit across from him. Din lowers himself onto the seat, trying to hide the pain that courses through his still-injured arm. He’d left the sling back on the ship, worried that wearing it would prompt more questions, but all he’s succeeded in is forgetting that his arm is broken in the first place. He quickly presses his arm to his body in a way that’s as subtle as possible. 

The Senator turns his chair so that it’s facing the party downstairs. He looks over the partygoers with his hands clasped together. 

“You know Mando, I’m impressed,” he says after a moment. “I’ve always heard that your kind was prudish. But you’re fucking _that_?” The Senator points down at Jovi through the window, where she sits patiently by the bar. “I’m very impressed. Very impressed indeed.” 

Bile rises up in Din’s throat. This is not the conversation he came all the way here to have. “Alrick is dead.” 

The Senator’s smile drops. “You took two weeks to tell me that?” he asks. He spins his chair back around to face Din. Irritated, he asks, “Well did you at least kill him?” 

“He died a decade ago.” 

“My sources told me he was very much _alive_ ,” the Senator interrupts. He shakes his head and laughs dryly. “Are you trying to tell me my sources were wrong?” 

“They weren’t right,” Din deadpans. “I spoke to the locals. He died a decade ago after a bar fight. They found his body at the bottom of the cliffs in Kan.” 

The Senator pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a slow, impatient breath. “I see,” he says. “So then why did you take two weeks to get back to me? Did you think it would be funny to waste my time?” 

Din’s upper lip curls in distaste. These men are like ticking time bombs—they get angry over anything. Trying to stay level-headed, he replies, “It took time to get that information. Jilohvians are very private people.” Then, before he can help it, he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me he was an imperial deserter?” 

The Senator leans back, surprised. He shakes his head slightly. “You know the guild laws. No questions asked.” 

“We agreed not to operate through the guild,” Din retorts. “You didn’t want them taking any of your money. Guild laws don’t apply here.” 

The Senator stills. He’d expected Din to have forgotten—or at least not to care. But not disclosing a quarry’s affiliations, especially if dangerous, is frowned upon in these exchanges. He could’ve gotten Din killed. He might’ve already gotten a lot of people killed. 

“You know…” The Senator crosses his arms and turns his chair away again, facing the window. “I’m having a hard time believing that he’s dead given how many excuses you’re giving me.” 

Din doesn’t flinch. “I’m the best in the guild. You’ve probably sent dozens of men over the years to get nothing in return. I got you your information. He’s dead.” 

The Senator sighs. Slowly, he leans forward, rubbing the bridge of his nose once more. He looks over the party in silence. The band’s playing a slower song, and some of the guests have begun to dance, taking over part of the space as an impromptu dance floor. By the bar, an older man offers Jovi a hand—a dance, more than likely—and she politely shakes her head. 

“The girl. Jovi.” He cocks his head to the side in thought. “Is she from there?” 

Din lets out a low breath. Patience isn’t his best virtue, especially not with men like this one. They have one-track minds. “Why does that matter?” 

“That’s a Jilohvian name, is it not?” the Senator notes. “Girls from there… they’re something special.” He nods slowly, eyes glazed over as she stares down at her. “You think you could get her to stay? I’ll… double your payment.” 

Din might’ve done a lot of questionable things for money. He might’ve let some questionable things happen for the sake of a profit—because it’s not his business, and neither side of this war has ever done a good thing for him. Wartime gives birth to some bad, bad things, and it’s not Din’s job to try and clean things up. But he’s never, ever let a man pay for a woman on his watch. He’s never even taken a job to bring a slave back to their owner. He knows what it’s like to be helpless, and he’ll never, ever facilitate the making of someone innocent to feel the same. 

Which is why he finds it particularly hard to not break this man’s face in half right now. 

“No,” Din snaps, a little more intensely than he’d intended. “I’m not here for that. Call off your goons if you haven’t already. The people on that planet are already terrorized enough. There’s nothing for you there.” 

The Senator turns and slowly raises his hands in defense. “Easy, Mando. I didn’t know you were a bleeding-heart,” he says. He shakes his head as if Din had just accused him of something unwarranted. Tsking, he says, “You were the only man on the job there in a while, and you’ll be the last one. Promise.” 

Din steadies his breathing and glances out the door, at the security guards waiting on the other side of the glass. 

“Thank you for getting me that information. One last bad man out there to worry about.” He smiles faintly and lifts himself out of his seat. “Let’s get your compensation.” 

He stands in front of a particularly large cabinet and inputs a code Din can’t see. The electronic lock beeps and the door opens, unveiling canisters and wads of credits. The Senator grabs a canister, opens it, and slams it on top of the desk. 

_Beskar._ Smelted with the imperial insignia. All clearly melted down, all clearly taken during the Great Purge. And nearly as much as that man gave him in exchange for Grogu several months ago. 

Din stands up. “Beskar?” 

The Senator picks up an ingot. “It’s a powerful currency right now. Very coveted,” he explains. He nods towards the open cabinet, where the wads of banded-together credits sit. “I can pay you in something else, but it won’t be very much. Times are tough, and we still have business to do.”

Din looks up at the Senator in shock. “Where did you get this?” 

The Senator laughs. Shaking his head, he asks, “Does it matter? It’s back in the right hands now.” 

Din should’ve realized it before. These officials out on the Outer Rim… they’re not as pure of intention, if any of them are, as the ones back in the Core. They’re prone to corruption. They’ll take the side of whoever offers them the most money. And this much? It’s suspicious. 

He’s dirty. If they had met under different circumstances, Din probably could’ve just shot him; rid the world of another scumbag profiting from the plundering of Mandalore. But his security guards are right outside the door, along with a detail downstairs and outside, and any risky move on his part could get him injured or Jovi killed.

“Why so much then?” Din asks. “I didn’t bring you the quarry.” 

The Senator leans back in his seat. Raising his hands, he says, “You gave me information, didn’t you? And you brought something very valuable to our little planet.” 

“She’s a kid,” Din snaps. 

“She’s of age,” the Senator corrects. “What, you’re telling me you haven’t thought about it?” He snorts. His gaze falls on Din and he cocks a brow. Din stays silent. Turning the ingot over in his hands, he says, “Clearly you have, because that’s not what I was talking about. Yet you were so _insistent_.” 

“I don’t know what you mean then.” Din picks up one of the ingots, heavy and poorly layered over from the melting. 

The senator tsks. He stands up and drags the edge of the ingot along the side of his desk slowly, the scraping sound permeating the otherwise silent room. “I’m disappointed, Mando,” he says. “All of that power at your fingertips and yet you still hide it away.” 

Something in Din’s brain clicks. They know.

He stills. Then, urgently, he places the ingot back into the canister and snaps it closed. He lugs the canister upwards, heavy with plundered metal, under the knowing gaze of the Senator. 

“Good boy,” the Senator says. He holds out the last ingot for Din to snatch. Stepping back, he says, “I’ll be sure to reach out next time I need a job done.”

Din lets out a grunt in reply. He places the ingot back inside of the canister and closes it once more. 

“And uh, Mando?” the Senator says. Din looks up to see a smirk ghosting his lips. “Guard that carefully. Wouldn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands.” 

Fingers curling around the handle of the canister, Din makes his way out the doors without a second glance. The doors slam behind him and he can feel the security guards’ eyes burning into the back of his head. The Senator’s toying with him, he can tell, but it doesn’t mean they’re safe. If he knows that Din has the Dark Saber, then there’s no telling who else might know.

They need to leave. Now.

Din hurries down the steps with the canister at his side. He shoulders past well-dressed partygoers, ignoring their irritated jabs in response, and towards the bar. Jovi sits at the far end of it, legs crossed politely as the man sitting next to her speaks. 

“Hey,” Din barks as he approaches. Jovi turns to look at him, and he nods towards the exit. “It’s time to go.”

Jovi, noting the urgency of his movements, stands up quickly. “Is everything okay?” 

The man looks between them in surprise. He stands up, raising his hands in innocence. “I apologize, sir,” he says. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t care.” Din grabs Jovi by the arm and leads her out of the room briskly. 

She lets out a short sound of protest but follows him, trying her best to match his strides. Din pushes the doors open and leads them down the hall, past security and into the elevator. He leans against the wall and sighs as the elevator doors close. 

“What’s going on?” Jovi asks. “Did it not go well?” She looks at the canister in his hand. Eyebrows furrowed, she asks, “What’s in the—”

Now is not the time to ask questions. “We need to go.” The elevator doors slide back open and Din grabs Jovi lightly with his bad arm, guiding her through the lobby. She follows quietly. At the front of the lobby, the Senator’s assistant quickly pulls the door open for them. 

“Everything alright, sir?” he asks, letting out a short yelp of surprise as Din shoulders past. 

“Have a nice night,” Jovi calls to him as Din pulls her down the rainy, empty street. 

She opens her umbrella, pulling it over their heads, but Din makes little effort to stay underneath it. All that matters is getting back to the ship and getting the hell out of here. He can dry off later. 

They reach the ship in record time. Din rushes past Jovi to the control panel, already getting the ship ready to fly. 

“What’s going on?” Jovi repeats. She takes her soaked-through shoes off by the bunks and approaches him on bare feet. She peers past him, at the lit-up control panel. Letting out a short breath, she asks, “Seriously, stranger. What happened?” 

“It’s not safe here.” Din walks past her, closing the ramp and activating the shields. “Just buckle up.” 

Jovi settles down in the co-pilot’s seat. She straps herself in, eyes still glued to Din’s every move. “It doesn’t seem fine,” she notes. Softer, she asks, “Did he say something? Are you okay?” 

So many questions, yet none that Din feels comfortable answering. They just need to get the hell out of this sector and as far into the Outer Rim as they can. 

“You ask too fucking many questions,” Din snaps, regretting it the moment the words leave his mouth. A silence falls over the ship. Below them, the engine begins to hum with life. Breathing out hard, he says, “Just… let me fly.”

The ship lifts off the ground and begins a rapid ascent into the clouds. Din weaves the ship through port markers and buildings and past the low-hanging fog. The ship’s quickly enveloped in darkness and heavy rain. 

Din looks down at the monitor. There’s no way that they can track the ship—but on the off chance they somehow do, they need to make sure no one can successfully follow them. Which means constant hyperspace, and if not, flying the ship through parts of space he’d typically avoid. 

They break from the atmosphere and the sound of rain pounding against metal abruptly stops. Din checks the ship’s parameters before launching it straight into hyperspace. They’re still locked onto the coordinates. They just have to make it there. 

Once the ship’s in hyperspace, Din looks over at Jovi again, whose eyes are trained squarely on the windshield. “Hey,” he says. Then, when she doesn’t react, a softer, “ _Hey_.” 

She turns with a blank gaze. Din nods towards the bunk. “You can sleep,” he says. “It’s going to be a long trip to these coordinates. Get some rest.” 

Jovi rubs her nose. Shaking her head, she says, “That’s your bed.” She looks away. “I’m fine here. I didn’t sleep great there anyway.” She tucks her feet under herself and re-trains her gaze on the view outside.

Din taps his fingers against the wheel. He’s not good at this kind of stuff—at apologizing. He doesn’t usually really have a reason to do it. Everyone in his field of work is a dick, and if they aren’t, then they’re used to everyone _else_ being a dick. He lets out a short breath. “Try,” he says. 

Din feels Jovi’s eyes bore into the side of his head. “Fine,” she says, unbuckling her seatbelt. She gets out of her seat and disappears behind him. There’s a shuffling and then a loud thump as she snaps the bunk closed. 

It’s going to be a long next few days.


	12. The Red Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din should’ve known that he’s not good at keeping secrets.

The first time Din visited Jiloh, he accidentally landed the _Razor Crest_ on someone’s house.

He was on-call in the fishing village of H’ara, in the northern reaches of the planet. H’ara is tiny and comprised mostly of a small cluster of buildings along the cliffside. The villagers there make their money from far-off ventures into the seas and from people who stop on their way into the Mid Rim. The weather—cold, cloudy, and often rainy—makes H’ara much less of a tourist destination than Kan, her sister to the south. It also makes the village an ideal getaway for people escaping a bounty on their head.

Unlike in Kan, the homesteads aren’t magnificent limestone edifices that beautify the landscape. They’re small and low-to-the-ground, with most of the structure existing underground to conserve heat. Short, circular cobblestone structures lined up in tandem are the only evidence that houses even exist.

It just so happened that the rainy season that had just passed was one of the worst ones H’ara had ever seen. Their port was destroyed. Most of the houses remained intact, but an unlucky few suffered damage—some even crumbling inwards. Villagers resorted to filling the cracks in with dirt and mud to save their homes from any more damage during the heavy rainfall. As the rainy season progressed and eventually ended, grass began to grow in the cracks.

Din didn’t know that. When he approached the town, all he saw was a destroyed port and what _looked_ like dilapidated buildings. He landed off to the side, careful not to get in anyone’s way.

When he got out of the ship, he was greeted by a panicking Jilohvian. By some miracle, the house didn’t collapse; likely because Din had, thankfully, half-parked the ship on the hillside above the house. He quickly moved the ship to a safer location and ran to apologize to the homeowner.

Forgiveness and hospitality are pillars of the Jilohvian religion. It’s why Kan is so well-established as a port city, and why despite Din nearly destroying the old man’s house, he was invited in for dinner. Din declined, of course, explaining that he couldn’t possibly partake in the man’s food after the damage he almost did. But the old man, with his kind eyes, shook his head and insisted that all was forgiven.

Din’s never met a Jilohvian that wasn’t hospitable and kind. Even Opal, with her judgmental stare, took care to ensure that Din’s stay and consequent recuperation in Kan was comfortable. Easy-going, patient, and considerate, they make it their goal to ensure those who visit their planet leave feeling better than when they arrived. It’s their belief that the energy they put forth into the world around them—their planet, the life on it, and the lives that pass through—will be reciprocated tenfold in the afterlife.

As it turns out, the only Jilohvian in the galaxy that doesn’t seem to abide by those rules happens to be on-board Din’s ship.

No. That’s an exaggeration. Jovi’s hospitable, and she’s been remarkably kind to him. She’s just royally pissed off.

She goes through the entire next day without speaking to him. Wordless in the morning, wordless at lunchtime. At dinnertime, Din offers her some of the fresh food, hoping it’ll egg her to cease the increasingly awkward silence on-board. She just accepts the meal, an apple and a half-loaf of bread, and retreats into the dimly-lit bunk. Some time afterwards, the bunk door slams closed.

It’s the first time since he met her that she’s ever been quiet. And under most circumstances, he’d be grateful for that. Silence is comfortable—it’s something he’s used to. He’d take an awkward silence over aimless babbling any day. It’s part of why he prefers to work alone. No unnecessary conversations. This silence just makes him feel guilty.

When he’d raised his voice at her, he was consumed in the fear of someone capturing them and taking the Darksaber. They’d been so close to that before, back on Jiloh when they destroyed that Imperial base. He was running on instincts and fear. Now that they’ve been en route to the coordinates for over a day, and the threat of being overtaken by Imperial forces feels much further away, he just feels like an asshole.

He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings.

There’s five more days until they reach the coordinates, and Din isn’t sure if she’ll even speak before then. Which he doesn’t know what to do about. He’s never had to deal with this before, not _really._ He’s traveled alongside women before, on jobs and back during his odd-job days. He knows what it’s like for a woman to be pissed off at him—but he’s never really cared about it before.

He cares now. This is his one possible connection to the kid, someone he’s spent a lot of time with over the past several weeks. Someone who saved his life.

But Din’s bad at apologies. He’s blunt.

So he sleeps.

Uncomfortably.

In the same upright, stiff position he’s been sleeping in since they left her planet. Not wanting to bother her or make her more upset with him. It’s not a pleasant sleep: it’s an in-and-out one, drifting back and forth between consciousness and something close to dreaming. Dreams about space, about the Kid, about almost dying on that grassy Jilohvian mountainside.

A humming cuts through his sleep. At first, he thinks it’s one of the overhead lights crapping out again—that persistent buzz before a fluorescent light blows out. He’d already had to replace one of them a few days after he got the ship. The buzz was loud, unnervingly so, and cut into the little sleep he was able to get. It snuck into his dreams the first few nights and convinced him that someone was standing above him, Darksaber raised, ready to deliver a fatal blow. That he hadn’t done a good job hiding it. And every time, without fail, he’d jolt awake and realize it was just that damn overhead light, flickering from overuse.

So he stopped at the site of his next bounty and looked for a replacement. He asked the mechanic for something that wouldn’t buzz so _damn_ loud all of the time, and ushered him away when he tried to get a droid to work on the replacement. He could work on his own light system.

And after a good half-hour, he did. The system was different from the ones on the _Razor Crest,_ and admittedly, he had no idea how to replace the old light rod or even remove it in the first place. But he did it, thankfully, and when it was time to leave, he flew away with a light system that didn’t buzz like a drone fly every waking hour of the day.

When he hears it again, low and droning, the dread he feels is hardly enough to cut through his sleep. He has thirty minutes to spare—hell, he has _days_ to spare—but replacing another one of those while under the watchful eye of someone who hasn’t spoken a word to him in over a day doesn’t sound entirely pleasant.

Except this hum isn’t a light malfunctioning, or even his vibroblade accidentally activating in the vault like it’s been known to do. It’s almost like a voice.

Din snaps himself awake. All at once, the voice stops, so abruptly he isn’t sure he heard it at all. Another nightmare, maybe. He’s been getting those a lot. Sore from sleeping in the same up-right position for days, he cranes his neck backwards. 

“Kid?” he asks. The cabin’s empty: the bunk unmade and left open. Both the bathroom and shower doors are cracked with the lights shut off. In fact, there’s no sign of her anywhere. He stands up, searching for her, and stumbles over something solid.

A leg. Jovi’s leg, from where she sits curled up in the corner of the cabin, cradling something dark in her hands. Din reaches over and switches the light on. The light flickers on, illuminating the black metal of the Dark Saber. He stumbles backwards.

“Hey.” Jovi looks up at him. Her eyes are tired.

“You went through my things.” Din tries to keep his voice level, but panic is rising up in his chest. “I didn’t say you could do that.”

“It was in a box by my things,” she says. “And it kept making noise. It wasn’t letting me sleep.”

Din reaches to take the saber away, but she snatches it back out of her lap, holding it to her chest. He lets out an impatient breath. “It doesn’t make noise,” he says firmly. “You were probably just dreaming.” He holds his hand out. “Now give it. That’s not a toy.”

Jovi’s eyes flash. “I know it’s not,” she snaps. “I’m not a kid. But it does.” She rubs her eyes. “The whispers have been bothering me for days. It finally stopped when I picked it up.”

The Dark Saber doesn’t _whisper_. It doesn’t even make a sound unless it’s activated—which if it had been somehow, it would’ve cut through the box and made a hole in the hull, killing them both.

Or maybe he knows less about it than he thought he did. 

“I thought these things were your religion,” Jovi says. “Why are you hiding this one?”

“It’s just a sword,” he replies. “I kept it in there because I didn’t need it.”

“ _Just a sword.”_ Jovi cocks a brow. She stands up and extends the Dark Saber forward, towards an inanimate target. Her finger ghosts uncomfortably close to the switch that activates it. Looking up at him, she states, “Well _Mani a’toa_ , stranger. This does not look like just a sword.” The sarcastic Jilhovian lilts off her tongue.

Din takes a step forward.

“Put that down, Jovi,” he warns. The stories about who’s able to wield the saber might seem true, but if there’s any chance that she can accidentally activate it… She could hurt herself, or get them both killed.

She turns to him. Brow wrinkled, she says, “No. Not until you tell me what this thing is.” She turns the Dark Saber over in her hands and shakes her head. “This thing is scary. I’m not going to stay on a ship with it until you tell me why it’s here.”

“Put it down and I’ll tell you,” Din says. There’s a pleading tone to his voice evident even through the modulator. He steps forward with his hand extended. “Please.”

Jovi looks up at him. Slowly, she lowers the Dark Saber, until it hangs loosely at her side. “Okay,” she says after a moment of hesitation. She hands it to him warily. Crossing her arms, she says, "I'm sorry. But you better have a good explanation." 

Din takes the Dark Saber and carefully places it back into the otherwise-empty box it previously resided in. “It’s called the Darksaber,” Din explains over his shoulder. He snaps the lid into place and turns around. “It’s an ancient Mandalorian weapon.”

“You guys fought with those?” she asks, gesturing towards the pile of boxes.

Din shakes his head. “There’s only one in existence.”

_That he knows of._

“Why do you have it then?”

Rubbing his wrists, Din says, “It’s a long story.” A formality short for _I don’t want to talk about it._ But Jovi doesn’t pick up on that subtlety. She settles back on a nearby box and crosses her arms.

“I have time.”

Din swallows and takes a beat too long to respond. Across the cabin, Jovi scoffs. “What, am I asking too many questions?” Her tone doesn’t seem to carry the weight of the past few days, but still makes guilt settle in Din’s stomach.

He sighs. “I’m sorry for saying that.”

An understatement. He still feels like a dick.

Jovi looks away, her neck bobbing with a slight swallow. “It’s fine,” she says, though Din’s not entirely convinced. “Just tell me. I want to know what I’m stuck in this box with.”

Jovi leans forward attentively, hands holding her angled face in place. Din settles down on the box across from her. 

"First. You said it whispers?" he asks. 

"Yeah." Jovi rubs her eyes. "I thought it was you at first. But the voices weren't in any tongue I understood, and I understand a few." 

Din had heard whispering before, lingering a second too long after waking up from a nightmare. He'd always assumed it was just a continuation of the voices that haunted him every time he had a bad dream. Chanting in Mando'a—a language Jovi would not understand unless she'd somehow had contact with another Mandalorian, which she definitely hadn't. It just doesn't make sense why she'd hear it. She has no ties to any of this.

”Is that bad?” Jovi asks, noting his silence. 

Din leans forward. It doesn't make sense. But none of this does, and there's no sense in worrying her over it. “No,” he says. “I don’t think so.” 

“A man named Moff Gideon had taken it from our people,” he begins. “When I went to break out the kid, he was threatening him with it. I didn’t know what it was, but I didn’t want him to use it.”

Jovi nods slowly. “A lightsaber, right?”

Din hadn’t thought of it that way. The dual-sabers he saw Ahsoka Tano wield back on Corvus were far flashier than the Dark Saber—yet the resemblance was there. It could be a lightsaber. An odd lightsaber, but a saber nonetheless.

“Something like that,” Din replies after a moment. “It belonged to Bo Katan, another Mandalorian.”

“Another Mandalorian?” Jovi interjects. At the subtle raise of Din’s visor, she bows her head, the ghost of another apology sitting in her open mouth.

Din lets out a slow breath. Patience is a virtue. “It’s fine,” he says. “You can ask questions.”

Jovi gnaws on her lip and looks away, nodding faintly. This isn’t a problem that started with him. This started long before they met—he just touched a nerve.

“Yes, another Mandalorian,” Din continues in her silence. “He stole it from her. Fighting with him… it was almost like he wanted me to steal it back.”

That sly grin on his face. It didn’t leave even after he surrendered. Din should’ve known. He shouldn’t have taken it.

“I brought it back to the bridge. I tried to give it to Bo Katan but she couldn’t take it. You can only wield the Darksaber if you win it in battle. She hadn’t.” He looks down at his hands. “I’d heard her say she wanted to take back Mandalore. I didn’t get how she’d do it. Then Moff Gideon told me the person who wields the Darksaber becomes the ruler of Mandalore.”

Jovi’s lips part in realization. She lifts her hand to her mouth, subtly, to hide her surprise. Quietly, she remarks, “So you’re a king.”

A king. Din wants to laugh at that. He almost does—a brief exhale of the nostrils, contained mostly by the modulator. “No. I didn’t accept it.” He looks over at the pile of boxes in disdain. “I haven’t taken it out of that box since the moment I got this ship.”

Jovi looks up at him in surprise. “You have to,” she says. “You said it yourself, right? That’s how it works.”

Din smacks his hand against the side of the hollow box he sits on. Standing up, he says, “I don’t accept it. I did it to protect the kid.”

“Wouldn’t that make you more worthy?” Jovi asks.

“I’m not worthy,” Din says.

He’s far from worthy. He’s gotten to where he is through luck and circumstance. Helping the kid was the most moral thing he’s ever done. Everything else has just been him surviving. Morals don’t keep you alive.

Someone like Jovi, she’s worthy. She threw herself into bettering her village expecting nothing in return. Complacent to a life of loveless marriage and popping children out for a man who couldn’t even defend her honor to his own parents. If Din hadn’t landed in Kan in the first place, she would’ve never even known she could be trained as a Jedi. She would’ve lived in ignorance for the rest of her life, protecting her village to the best of her ability.

And Din just doesn’t fucking get it. He doesn’t get how he’d end up with an obligation like this one. Not after the things he’s had to do to survive. Not when people like her could be given an opportunity like this—and not her, because she’s not a Mandalorian, but someone who’s _good_ and someone who _cares._

Din isn’t a good man. There’s too much blood on his hands.

He’s just a man.

Jovi stands up slowly. “Stranger,” she says gently. She stops in front of him and lets out a short breath. “You have to do this.”

“I don’t,” Din says. “It’s not my destiny.”

Jovi lets out a short laugh of disbelief. “It is,” she says. “Quite literally. You need to follow your destiny and take your planet back.” She waves her hand around the ship. “This whole… taking me to the Jedi, it’s not your destiny. Bringing peace back to your people is. You proved that.”

“Mandalore isn’t like Jiloh,” Din says. “It won’t be that easy.”

Jovi’s gaze falls. “I know,” she admits. She takes her bottom lip into her mouth. Padding around the perimeter of the cabin, she says, “I read about Mandalore once. In that book I told you about.”

She looks up at him. “It was pretty.”

“Yeah.” Visions of the planet flash in Din’s eyes: derelict, torn in two by war and destruction. A far cry from the spiritual haven it used to be. “I know.”

“Do you miss it?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Din says. “We all do.”

The corners of Jovi’s eyes crinkle sadly. She tucks her hands behind her back and wordlessly approaches the cockpit. Outside, the world glows blue as they fly through hyperspace. In the cerulean glow, she stands above the control panel, peering at the buttons.

Her eyes shine with finality. Then, reaching forward, she starts fumbling with the controls.

“What are you doing?” Din asks.

Her hands wrap around the wheel. She lets out a grunt of effort as she tries in vain to shift it. The ship lets out a low, metallic whine. “Turning this thing around,” she says. “Damnit.”

Din hops up from his seat. “Stop.”

“No,” she says, waving him away. She redirects her attention to the control panel in front of her. “I’d be an idiot if I let you ignore your destiny just to help me.”

“Jovi, stop,” Din warns as he approaches. The ship suddenly jolts and he nearly tumbles to the ground. Ahead of them, the blue light rapidly fades into a speckled black. They’re out of hyperspace.

Jovi lets out a ragged breath. She looks down at the control board in a panic. “How do you turn this—Hey! Put me down,” she cries out.

Din lifts her up by the waist, pulling her away from the control board. He tosses her over his shoulder with ease. “Don’t touch my ship again,” he growls.

She lets out a barrage of sounds of protest. He carries her into the cabin and tosses her down inelegantly into the bunk. She glares up at him, brown eyes aflame.

“Ignoring the situation isn’t going to make it go away,” she insists. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Stay,” Din orders. “Or I’ll put you in carbonite.”

An empty threat. Jovi knows that. Still, it quiets her enough for Din to re-enter the cockpit and assess the damage.

Nothing seems to be broken or decalibrated—but they’re out of hyperspace, and it’ll take a second for the drive to power back on. Din lets out a frustrated sigh. Maybe carbonite wouldn’t be the worst idea. At least she’d talk less.

After a few quiet seconds, the light to the hyperdrive reactivates, signaling that the core is ready to power back on. Din lifts his hand to the lever and stills.

He looks down. A sensation spreads through his arm, like ice biting its way up his body that leaves him paralyzed. Every muscle in his arm tenses at once—and then it clicks. _He_ wasn’t the one that decided he can’t move. He knows this sensation well by now.

She’s doing it again.

Din's veins burn hot with sudden anger. He strains painfully through Jovi’s force, slowly managing to wrap each finger around the lever. Every muscle in his body strains at once at the effort but he does it, hand pushing the lever down in slow motion. Then, just like that, the ship jolts forward, back into active hyperspace.

The feeling ends. Din regains his bearings and looks back at Jovi, who’s breathing raggedly and standing in the middle of the cabin.

“What the hell was that?” he seethes.

Jovi’s eyes grow wide as he approaches, footsteps loud against the metal. “I—I’m sorry, I just wanted to help—”

All at once, Din rushes forward, taking her neck into one hand. Her lips part in surprise. He doesn’t squeeze, but his grasp stays tight against it, leather pressed into soft flesh. Hazel eyes meet tinted glass between layers of beskar and he can see the panic in her pupils, dark pinpricks in a sea of green and brown.

Din relishes that sometimes. The feeling of having someone’s life at his fingertips. Quarries that nearly escaped him in his pursuit crumbling to their knees, relenting at the threat of near-death. But he can feel Jovi’s heartbeat through his gloves and it’s fast, a mile-a-minute, and he can’t help but almost wish that she’d do it again—that she’d use her abilities to fling him back into a wall, or freeze him in place, or just kriffling _fight back_ in the way he knows she’s able to. It's a chance for her to prove that she's strong enough. To fling him into a wall, to freeze him, to do anything. 

But she doesn’t.

“You still want to throw away your potential?” Din asks coldly. “You think you could stop an imperial squadron? An army of men?”

Her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t fight back. Just stares up at him, chin jutted defiantly in his direction. He retracts his hand and she stumbles backwards. Trying his best to hide his disappointment, he says, “You’re weak.”

Jovi recoils into the bunk. “Asshole,” she gasps out, raising her hand to her neck. 

Her words burn into Din like acid, sinking heavy into the pit of his stomach. The last thing he wants is for her to hate him. He just can’t, in good conscience, let her make a stupid decision like the one she just tried to make. Stupid decisions get people hurt. Stupid decisions get people killed.

“You’re not powerful enough,” Din says. He turns away. “That’s exactly why you need to see the Jedi.”

“You almost whisked me away despite my father’s wishes,” Jovi snaps. “All because he made all my decisions for me. Now you’re making them for me, too.” She laughs bitterly. “You’re just like him.”

“I’m not your father,” Din replies.

“I know,” Jovi says. Pointedly, she deadpans, “My father wouldn’t threaten my life.”

Din swallows. “I wouldn’t hurt you,” he replies, and he means it. “But someone else will. Especially if they know what you are.”

Jovi stills. Her eyes flicker to the ground in admittance with her hand raising to thumb her locket. “Maybe,” she admits. Sharper, she asks, “But wasn’t this whole thing supposed to be my decision? What if I wanted to choose another path?”

“That’s not your path to take.”

“Who says I can’t make it my path?” Jovi retorts. “I… I’ve spent the last few days on a _spaceship._ I visited a foreign planet and ran away from a villain like the ones in my books. Maybe my destiny isn’t to train to be a Jedi. Maybe my destiny—”

“I didn’t even want you here.” The words come out cold and venomous. Din feels them vacate the darkest parts of him without any time to stop himself. He regrets saying it the moment his tongue forms the last syllable, but it’s too late.

Jovi blinks up at him. “What?”

“I didn’t ask for you to tag along,” Din continues flatly. “I was doing you a favor. I work alone. And I don’t need a spoiled _kid's_ help.”

Something cracks in Jovi’s throat. She lets out a short, pained noise, her mouth hanging open in surprise. The fingers wrapped around her locket grow white-knuckled.

“I… I read you all wrong,” she says after a moment. She rubs her face. “My dad read you all wrong. We were so stupid.”

A low, indignant laugh escapes her throat. “My… _Maker,_ and I was stupid enough to think we were friends.” Shaking her head, she says, “You’re a dick, Mando.”

A painful silence falls over the ship. The damage is done on both ends. If anyone else had talked to Din like that, he probably would’ve already thrown them into carbonite or out the airlock. But what he said wasn't much better. 

Jovi settles back down quietly in the bunk. “You’re going to take me to the coordinates,” she says firmly, “and we’re never going to see each other again.” Her gaze flickers up to meet his. “Understood?”

Din opens his mouth, but his reply gets stuck in his throat. “Understood,” he manages out.

Up front, a beeping directs his attention away from the burning sensation in his chest. Din jumps to attention, running towards the cockpit. His shoulders drop. A proximity alert. For what, he isn’t sure—the ship’s still floating through hyperspace. When he checks the nav, there’s nothing even in the ship’s proximity: no ships, no debris that snuck its way into hyperspace somehow. But the proximity alert stays strong, blinking bright red for some unseen obstacle.

Din taps the screen and sighs. Probably just damaged. These parts are all old or cheap replacements by the last owner.

The ship suddenly jerks. Violently; so hard Din tumbles to the floor. Above, the light streaming through the windshield flickers blue-and-white. He clutches onto the control panel and strains to pull himself up with his good arm.

“ _Dank farrik._ ” The ship’s falling out of hyperspace. Flecks of black space flicker through the blue streams of hyperspace as the ship rocks back and forth from the force. All at once, the rocking stops, and the blue fades to black.

Space. An empty abscess of space, speckled with stars and far away from any visible planets. _Dank fucking farrik._ The hyperdrive’s busted. It’ll take them days to get anywhere now.

Din peers into the nav and tries to get a reading on where they are, but the screen’s glitching, empty but still beeping with increasing ferocity. He taps the screen again in frustration. The beeping abruptly stops altogether after the third tap. He steps back, wondering if that did the trick. And then the first one hits.

There’s a loud, metallic groan. A sharp jolt of the ship sends Din into a collision course with the pilot’s chair. The chair digs into his bad arm and he lets out a pained groan. Back in the cabin, the boxes loudly crash against each other. Din scrambles back up, seething from the pain, only to be knocked onto the ground again. Frantically, he manages to pull himself into the captain’s chair with strained effort and straps the seatbelt over his chest.

“Kid,” he rasps out. “Strap in.” 

Jovi crawls into the cockpit on all fours, clutching onto everything as she goes. She drags herself into the co-pilot’s seat and straps in with shaking hands.

An asteroid field. Spread as far ahead as the eye can see. The ship groans loudly with every rock that pummels its shell. Din tries to maneuver through it, but it’s dense: thousands deep with no end in sight. The red light of the shields flicker on and join forces with the proximity warning.

“Are you hurt?” Din asks, maneuvering the ship downwards to narrowly avoid a massive asteroid. He looks over at Jovi, whose eyes are squeezed shut in a wince, and disregards any feeling of discomfort left from their unsavory conversation. Blood stains her forehead from an unseen injury. 

“I hit my head,” she replies weakly. Her head lolls back against the headrest. “I’ll be okay.”

Din directs his attention back to the control panel. The medical analysis will have to wait. The hull’s integrity is at 89%—it’ll hold, but he’s not sure for how much longer. There’s no way it’ll hold through the entire field.

There has to be an exit. These things are long; scattered in pockets that wrap around the rim in orbit. Most of them aren’t wide, which means that if he just keeps pushing forward, there might be a way out.

But width is relative. It could be a couple more yards or it could be half a lightyear long. There’s just no other way to go. Going down would risk bumping an asteroid in a blind spot and killing them both. Going up would do the same. So Din wraps his hands around the wheel, accelerates the ship, and forces it onwards.

More asteroids bounce off the ship. The monitor flashes red, signaling that the hull’s integrity is decreasing. But Din pushes on, weaving past the bigger asteroids and praying to whatever Maker is out there that nothing misses his sight and breaches the ship.

Jovi starts to recite something unintelligible—a prayer, something in Jilohvian. It’s the first time Din’s ever heard her speak her mother tongue in full before. Her hands clutch the bottom of the control panel. The melodic words get caught in her throat with every bump of the ship.

“Wait,” she says, pausing between prayers. She leans forward and points towards a distant spot on the horizon. “There.”

“Where?” Din asks. He peers forward.

“There.” She presses her finger into the glass and winces when a small asteroid crashes into it. Looking over at him, she says, “I think it’s a break in the field.”

“I see it.” A tiny pinprick of black in the distance. A break.

Din doesn’t think twice. He floors it, narrowly weaving past a cluster of asteroids twice the size of his ship. He doesn’t stop until the pinprick grows bigger and bigger and they soar through it, leaving the field far behind them.

The proximity alert ceases and silence overtakes the ship once more. The overhead lights continue to pulse a soft red—but the hull’s intact, stable at 65%, and Din’s flown with worse statistics. He heaves a sigh of relief and leans back against the headrest, eyes closed.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out after a moment.

He opens his eyes again and looks over at Jovi. Her eyes are shut in a half-wince. There's a big gash on her forehead, right above her eyebrow. She opens her eyes slowly.

“I know,” she replies. She lets out a low breath. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn't have touched your ship." 

Din isn’t good with getting apologies. He'll worry about that later. For now, he needs to figure out their next move. He recognizes the system they’re in. Too well. But it’s lightyears away from where they were supposed to be heading. Falling out of hyperspace threw them for a loop. It’ll take even longer to get to the coordinates from here—if they can even manage to fix the hyperdrive.

“Where are we?” Jovi asks.

Din sighs. “Off track.”

“How off track?” Jovi asks.

Din nods towards the monitor. “See for yourself.”

Jovi leans forward and peers into the monitor. “There’s a planet up ahead. Sorgan?”

Din raps his knuckle against the control panel. “Yep,” he says. “That’s Sorgan.”

“We’re saved.” Jovi heaves a sigh of relief and falls back into her seat. “How far are we?”

“A few hours’ flight,” Din replies. He busies himself with checking the control panel and the ship’s parameters. They’ll limp there, but they’ll make it.

Jovi spares him a look. “You don’t seem too excited. You have history there?”

“Something like that.” Din restarts the engine. The ships pushes onwards, further into the system.

Maybe she’s forgotten about him already. Maybe they’ve all forgotten. It would make things a lot easier. 

But Din knows better than to assume the best. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh... Looks like things are about to get a little more complicated. 
> 
> \- 
> 
> Confession time: I took a bit longer on this chapter because I heavily considered scrapping everything and writing from Jovi’s perspective. ...But I’m a good 65k+ words in, and scrapping both the interactions I have on here AND two months of hard work would be a travesty. So enjoy Din being an angsty little shit in this one. :)


End file.
